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In
the 1980s, I repeatedly watched a recorded copy of the film "Escape
from New York" on my family's Panasonic VHS player/recorder—complete
with tuning knobs the size of hubcaps. Little did I know that I
would star in my own version of the movie (as a domesticated, tattoo-less
and slightly flabby version of Snake Plissken) on a recent holiday
vacation to the Big Apple.
Of course, my family and I chose to travel to New York City during
one of the coldest Christmas seasons on record—so cold that
even the subway rats were wearing The North Face.
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One of our most
exciting adventures while visiting NYC with a family of five was finding
public toilets, which apparently must be booked in advance and require
a tour guide. This may explain why, when nature calls, some folks
just use the floor of the subway stations.
NYC's subway system is a true masterpiece of comprehensive filth—to
the point that it makes my eldest and most expensive daughter's bedroom
look positively pristine (and that's saying something). Anytime we
had to enter the subway, I felt compelled to apologize to my own germs.
Despite the grime and cold, though, I'm glad I finally made it to
this iconic city and thawed my retinas long enough to see the Brooklyn
Bridge, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, the Empire State Building,
Times Square and the inside of several high-end retail centers where
I defrosted my giblets while my three teenage daughters nuked our
credit cards.
Although getting to New York and going bankrupt was easy enough, leaving
was another matter entirely. |
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On
our ride from Manhattan to LaGuardia airport for our departure, my
wife checked our flight status online and informed me that our flight
had been cancelled. At first, I wasn't too alarmed, assuming that
we could catch a later flight and undergo a more leisurely strip search
in the TSA line.
However, when we saw the desperate throng at the Southwest Airlines
kiosk, I knew something was up, and it wasn't airplanes. We discovered
that all Southwest flights had been cancelled for the foreseeable
future, and to that point, we hadn't received so much as a text message
from the airline confirming the cancellation and offering us a monogrammed
airsickness bag as a consolation.
And speaking of airsickness, as we approached the back of the customer
service line, one nauseated Southwest customer hastily exited the
queue to toss his New York cheesecake all over the check-in lobby
(three times). For a second, I thought the crowd might applaud him
for expressing our collective feelings so succinctly. But nobody seemed
to notice much. (They had probably ridden the subway recently.)
To make a long story of a long trip short, we managed to finance another
night in a NYC hotel, booked an American Airlines flight to Arkansas
the next evening, ate Taco Bell twice, rented a car and drove to Dallas
through the night to pick up our own car, then drove home to East
Texas and somehow survived it all—including the Taco Bell.
The trip was truly an adventure that brought our family closer together
through shared trauma, and we're still hopeful that Southwest Airlines
will reimburse us for our extra expenses. Maybe they'll even throw
in a monogrammed airsickness bag. |
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