Sunday, February 06, 2005
Riding the wave ahead of the blizzard, out of New York
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
An East Midtown family tells this story:
Since 9/11/2001 we feel that our capacity to withstand winter colds and bronchitis has deteriorated, and the only way to survive is to go south for the colder weeks. When the snow is down and the only exercise available is slogging around Gramercy and Union Square, and to and from the IRT, and the weather keeps one landlocked a sweltering apartment, a leave of absence from the beloved city becomes an almost overwhelming obsession.
We had planned to leave mid-January, but an event intervened, and our flight was postponed to Saturday, January 22, the expected day of the blizzard. We kept checking with American Airlines, our carrier, about their expectations. No postponement was AA’s steadfast answer, and on the morning of the 1 PM flight we set out for the airport three hours early, for whatever good it would do.
The day was bitter cold. The departures entrance at LaGuardia was windswept, too cold for an outdoors check-in, and a passing redcap, seeing our plight, packed our trunks on his cart and rolled us inside; then, after asking for our flight number and our picture IDs, ran of with the latter. We were puzzled, then worried, until he reappeared, holding the streaming luggage tags for our three checked trunks in his mouth, and our tickets, boarding passes and drivers’ licenses in his hands. He attached the tags and told us to go to Gate D; he’d take care of the security check. That was good for a $10 tip for the enterprising redcap, and only afterwards did I begin to think about the personal security aspects of the transaction.
Once inside, we had a breakfast and bought takeout food in the Concourse next to the lines in ticketing area. A cell-phone armed couple next to us was calling family members, ruefully explaining that they expected to be snowed in until Monday. This was too much pessimism, and we picked up our coffees and hied to the security gate. The indignities at the security entrance were not demeaning, although a few grumbled about removing belts and shoes (as it turned out, our digital camera card was wiped out, but that’s another matter).
Once in the waiting area for AA flight to Fort Lauderdale, we managed to take seats facing the runways. Aircraft were rolling in and out at a steady pace, although the skies were leaden there was no precipitation – but then, we had arrived at 11 AM, way ahead of the 1 PM departure time. The passengers around us were quiet, sitting with their arms crossed and eyes glued on the runways, almost prayerful, reminding me of the Yankee fans at the crucial game of the Boston – New York playoffs. The next two hours were a torture.
At 12:05 the first snowflakes appeared, in a steady fall, within 15 minutes covering the blue utility vehicles outside the picture window with a film of white. This was the real thing, right on time. At 12:30 an official announced the first boarding, of Zone A, the rearmost seats (the boarding passes now carry the zone information), stressing urgency, and the boarding proceeded in a steady stream. The crowd had come out of its prayerful vigil, and a wiseacre ahead of us announced: “The faster we board the sooner we leave,” to some oh yeas from the line.
Despite announcements from the cabin attendants to stow carryons under the seat and save overhead space for the rollaways, at flight time there were still late arriving passengers, probably some of the standbys, standing in the gangway, forlornly looking for stowage space. An impatient passenger actually got up and started opening the overheads, and some others moved their bags to tighten the space until the standbys' gear was stowed. But the volunteer effort did not hasten departure, the captain came on the horn to announce that de-icing was needed, and that it would take some time. A groan ensued, but sudsy water started flowing across the portholes almost instantly, as a huge water truck with a cherry picker and a man in the bucket started spraying us, turning the wings of the aircraft a promising pink.
Pulling out of the gate, the plane performed some intricate dance maneuvers in the snow, which seemed a couple of inches deep, although one could still see the orange runway markings under the cover. There were tire tracks ahead, and we seemed to follow them, to the satisfaction of any winter driver, who knows the perils of venturing a car into fresh snow. Then the plane got on the actual runway and started revving up, and there was no need to worry about torque and traction, as jet power took over the job.
The plane took off at 1:30 PM, lifting easily, to the applause of the passengers, and cutting through the mist until it reached full sunshine, 35,000 feet above. Two and a half hours of airtime later, as the Airbus 80 landed at Fort Lauderdale, we found out that we had been among the last to leave LaGuardia Airport before the snowfall closed off all air traffic. The blizzard stranded some 200 flights that day and 500 the next.
An East Midtown family tells this story:
Since 9/11/2001 we feel that our capacity to withstand winter colds and bronchitis has deteriorated, and the only way to survive is to go south for the colder weeks. When the snow is down and the only exercise available is slogging around Gramercy and Union Square, and to and from the IRT, and the weather keeps one landlocked a sweltering apartment, a leave of absence from the beloved city becomes an almost overwhelming obsession.
We had planned to leave mid-January, but an event intervened, and our flight was postponed to Saturday, January 22, the expected day of the blizzard. We kept checking with American Airlines, our carrier, about their expectations. No postponement was AA’s steadfast answer, and on the morning of the 1 PM flight we set out for the airport three hours early, for whatever good it would do.
The day was bitter cold. The departures entrance at LaGuardia was windswept, too cold for an outdoors check-in, and a passing redcap, seeing our plight, packed our trunks on his cart and rolled us inside; then, after asking for our flight number and our picture IDs, ran of with the latter. We were puzzled, then worried, until he reappeared, holding the streaming luggage tags for our three checked trunks in his mouth, and our tickets, boarding passes and drivers’ licenses in his hands. He attached the tags and told us to go to Gate D; he’d take care of the security check. That was good for a $10 tip for the enterprising redcap, and only afterwards did I begin to think about the personal security aspects of the transaction.
Once inside, we had a breakfast and bought takeout food in the Concourse next to the lines in ticketing area. A cell-phone armed couple next to us was calling family members, ruefully explaining that they expected to be snowed in until Monday. This was too much pessimism, and we picked up our coffees and hied to the security gate. The indignities at the security entrance were not demeaning, although a few grumbled about removing belts and shoes (as it turned out, our digital camera card was wiped out, but that’s another matter).
Once in the waiting area for AA flight to Fort Lauderdale, we managed to take seats facing the runways. Aircraft were rolling in and out at a steady pace, although the skies were leaden there was no precipitation – but then, we had arrived at 11 AM, way ahead of the 1 PM departure time. The passengers around us were quiet, sitting with their arms crossed and eyes glued on the runways, almost prayerful, reminding me of the Yankee fans at the crucial game of the Boston – New York playoffs. The next two hours were a torture.
At 12:05 the first snowflakes appeared, in a steady fall, within 15 minutes covering the blue utility vehicles outside the picture window with a film of white. This was the real thing, right on time. At 12:30 an official announced the first boarding, of Zone A, the rearmost seats (the boarding passes now carry the zone information), stressing urgency, and the boarding proceeded in a steady stream. The crowd had come out of its prayerful vigil, and a wiseacre ahead of us announced: “The faster we board the sooner we leave,” to some oh yeas from the line.
Despite announcements from the cabin attendants to stow carryons under the seat and save overhead space for the rollaways, at flight time there were still late arriving passengers, probably some of the standbys, standing in the gangway, forlornly looking for stowage space. An impatient passenger actually got up and started opening the overheads, and some others moved their bags to tighten the space until the standbys' gear was stowed. But the volunteer effort did not hasten departure, the captain came on the horn to announce that de-icing was needed, and that it would take some time. A groan ensued, but sudsy water started flowing across the portholes almost instantly, as a huge water truck with a cherry picker and a man in the bucket started spraying us, turning the wings of the aircraft a promising pink.
Pulling out of the gate, the plane performed some intricate dance maneuvers in the snow, which seemed a couple of inches deep, although one could still see the orange runway markings under the cover. There were tire tracks ahead, and we seemed to follow them, to the satisfaction of any winter driver, who knows the perils of venturing a car into fresh snow. Then the plane got on the actual runway and started revving up, and there was no need to worry about torque and traction, as jet power took over the job.
The plane took off at 1:30 PM, lifting easily, to the applause of the passengers, and cutting through the mist until it reached full sunshine, 35,000 feet above. Two and a half hours of airtime later, as the Airbus 80 landed at Fort Lauderdale, we found out that we had been among the last to leave LaGuardia Airport before the snowfall closed off all air traffic. The blizzard stranded some 200 flights that day and 500 the next.
# posted by Wally Dobelis @ 4:34 AM 
