Going Home

My cousin’s funeral is set for Tuesday, March 14 at 10 am.  I was fortunate enough to get a 6 am flight on Tuesday scheduled to get me into RDU at 8:30, so even if there are delays, I should be able to make it.  Then the meteorologists decide there’s going to be a nor’easter in the City.  They forecast blizzard like conditions from Monday midnite thru Tuesday midnite.  We’d spent Monday in Albany lobbying politicians for more money for housing.  So I’m thinking I’ll come home from Albany, maybe hit the gym, maybe not, and head to the airport about midnite in case there really is a snowstorm.  That way I can beat it, and hopefully there won’t be too much accumulation before my 6 am flight.

On the way to Albany I get a message from the airline that my flight has been cancelled.  I start to rebook, but we lost the signal, and because I’m a genius I didn’t think it was that big a deal.  We go to Albany, we have a VERY productive meeting with a couple of State Senators, and get on the bus to come home.  I use my phone as a hotspot instead of relying on the bus’s wifi, and look at the airline’s options.  There’s a 4 pm flight and an 8 pm flight, both out of Newark.  The 4 pm isn’t even possible since we didn’t leave Albany til after 2;  the 8 pm could possibly work.

Long story short:  traffic was a bear, which slowed us down.  I made a conscious effort to remain calm and rely on God’s Will.  We got off the bus, I got in my car and amazingly zipped through 5:00 traffic in the South Bronx.  I’d told myself that if I got home by 5:30, I might have a chance.  It was 5:29 when I pulled into the parking lot.

I go into the house and can’t find the duffel bag I’d wanted to use.  I found another one, and managed to stave off the OCD enough that I didn’t go through every pocket in it reminiscing about what I might have used it for.  Instead, I put in my robe and stoles, grabbed some stockings and some dressy-ish boots, (the funeral is at a Missionary Baptist Church with a pastor whose own preferences overruled those of the family and who actually had an opinion on what type of collar I should wear), and my good black preacher suit.  Come to think of it, I should have taken a different one, but the one I took is my favorite.  Of course the jacket and skirt were in two different places, but I managed to pull them together, a collar, a gift for my brother, stuff it all in a bag, and skedaddle.  By this point I’m not watching the time. 

The bag doesn’t have wheels, and I have to schlep it to the train, with my laptop (including not-yet-completed remarks) slung across my back.  My metrocard is around my neck where I keep it for easy access.  Get to the train station, and a train is pulling up.  Except I can’t unzip my coat to get to my metrocard.  I look like a 5-year old standing there trying to unzip my coat while the train pulls out of the station.  Next train is 6 minutes later.  Plane is due to take off at 8, board between 7:25 and 7:45.  Six minutes means a lot.

But I get to the next train and get to Penn Station.  I wander around NJTransit because I don’t see any schedules or fare machines.  Go to Customer service who tells me there’s a train now on Track 10. I go to track 10, passing a ticket machine on the way and getting a round trip ticket to Newark Airport.  I meant to get money, since I forgot to bring some from home and tipped the Albany driver with my last, but the two Chase ATMs I saw were both out of service.  So I get my ticket and go to the train which is full.  No problem, I’m standing, even though there’s a lot of traffic pushing by me.  Finally decide to go to the upper level of the packed train where I immediately find a seat.

The journey to EWR was uneventful (except for the fact that my NJTransit ticket to Newark airport included the Airtrain  -- I thought I’d have to buy a separate ticket for it!), but I was on standby.  Somehow United failed to put my TSA pre-check status on my standby ticket.  It’s now 7:25 or so, I think boarding has started, and these people at Newark literally sent me walking around in a circle before I got to the TSA line.  There not only did I have to take off my shoes and take out my laptop, but my scarf fell out of the bin and got caught in the rollers. After we got that untangled, this little girl kept feeling me up.  She explained what she was gonna do, but it was basically feeling me up.  As always, I made awkward jokes about how much she seemed to like it and who should pay whom, but it didn’t serve to make her move any quicker.  She even swabbed the palms of my hands and it seemed the machine took forever to tell her there was nothing on them.  I’m thinking I’m not getting on the plane.

Then I go to the gate, which is located on bumblefuck lane in west hell.  Seriously.  It was like gate 120-something. And while there were a lot of little cart thingies, the people who were spozed to be driving them all seemed to be talking to each other. I had no confidence they’d get me there any quicker than I would get there walking, so I walked.  And walked.  And walked. And walked.  I even lamented loudly at how ridiculous it was to have a gate that far away.

I finally got to the gate and waited behind a couple of people, only to find out I was at the gate for the Los Angeles flight.  I finally got to the correct gate.  I’d checked the app, which had gone from 7 available seats to zero, and where I had gone from #6 on the waitlist to #7.  It didn’t look good.  But the woman at the counter told us to hang out.  I told God I would trust God’s decision.

Turns out there were 6 available seats on the flight.  I was #7 and the guy I was talking to was #8.  Somehow, we both made it onto the plane!! Seems three people failed to show up.  I ain’t saying it was the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, I’m just noticing three people failed to show up….

There were obstacles on every side.  Every rational indicator suggested I would not make it.  But I’m writing this from 30,000 feet (did I mention I got a window seat?), as we prepare to begin our descent to RDU where I’ll go to be with my family as we prepare to say our final goodbyes to our beloved cousin, father, husband and friend.  I’ll be talking about Faithfulness.  He was a Marine, and Semper Fi was their motto.  I’mma be talking about the faithfulness of God.  I know what I’m talking about.