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| I was in New York to drive the all-new Lexus RC F at the Monticello Race Club track. |
I'm not the kind of guy who thinks air
travel should be totally absent of an occasional hiccup here or
there. I fly anywhere from 50,000 to 100,000 miles a year, depending
on the volatile largesse of carmakers. (This will be a 50,000-mile
year.) When one does that much flying, he should expect a delay or
two. I do. I get it. I've even caused more than one delay for myself
by volunteering for a later flight to pocket a $300-to-$500 voucher
for future travel. Cha-ching!
I don't think, though, that it's good
business for any airline that every fourth or fifth leg – a flight
between two airports – should be delayed in some shape or fashion.
Weather delays that no airline or airport can control should make up
the lion's share of schedule interruptions. That, however, does not
seem to be the case – at least for Delta.
After 25 years of more-than-average air
travel, I am still amazed at the apparently limitless and creative
ways my flights are delayed. When you ponder the intricacies of
technology required to allow a metal cylinder to become airborne and
stay that way, there's a lot that can go wrong. Once again, I get it.
That doesn't mean that my heart doesn't
skip a beat when, from my on-board seat, I see a couple of
maintenance guys begin scurrying in and out of the aircraft. As my
scheduled departure time passes, I am often suddenly catapulted into
ass-covering mode, which means a call to Delta on my cell to back
myself up on later flights. My angst is dramatically reduced when I
don't have to make a connection. If this is the final leg to my
ultimate destination, it's just a matter of reconciling myself to a
tardy arrival. On the other hand, if this leg is just one in a series
of flights, my apprehension ratchets up considerably.
My recent return to
Greenville-Spartanburg Airport from LaGuardia in New York, where I
was the guest of Lexus driving its all-new RC F, was of the
final-destination variety.
When I think of New York City or its
airports, I don't get warm fuzzies. I'm not a fan. I could go the
rest of my life without returning to NYC, and not lose a
nano-second's sleep. But, when a carmaker invites me to an event, I
go where the trip takes me – in this case: LaGuardia and NYC.
The flight in was uneventful. In fact,
we landed about 20 minutes early. This, of course, caused a bit of
confusion with the limo sent to scoop me up and haul me to the Ritz
Carlton in White Plains, a city roughly an hour from LaGuardia. It
wasn't a big deal, but did eat up the 20-minute time advantage the
early arrival provided.
I'm not a fan of any airport where I am
forced to leave the gate area, trudge down a flight or two of stairs
schlepping my luggage only to squeeze into an over-crowded shuttle
bus that drives to the plane. That's how it works at LaGuardia for
regional equipment.
We pulled up to our Delta Connection
jet to find a maintenance pickup truck partially blocking our way.
Two maintenance techs were walking around opposite sides of the plane
with flashlights peeking into compartments and open panels. They
would meet at the front or back of the plane, confer and continue on.
Walk, peek, meet, confer, walk, peek, meet, confer....
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| Snapped from my seat on the gate shuttle with my iPhone, the pilot and co-pilot discuss last week's Jets game while we stew on the bus. Let them eat cake! |
Eventually the maintenance-vehicle
count rose to three and the tech count to five. Mostly the other
three techs remained in their vehicles texting or talking on their
cell phones as the first two continued wandering around the plane.
Occasionally, one of them would board the plane. The pilot and
co-pilot were on the tarmac this entire time chitchatting. In the
finest Delta fashion, no one was bothering to inform us exactly what
was going on. It seems to me the pilot could have torn himself away
from his stimulating intercourse with his backup to walk the 20 feet
to our bus to tell us what was transpiring. Yep, nope.
We stayed on the bus for nearly 45
minutes watching this circus. Maintenance guys in and out of their
vehicles, walking around the plane, peeking into things, conversing
and then splitting up as one or two boarded the plane and the rest
returned to their vehicles for more texting.
We sat on the bus plane side for so
long, the driver's shift ended and his replacement was driven out to
take his place. We could hear conversation between the plane, the
techs and the gate on the driver's radio. We knew progress wasn't
being made.
Finally, the driver received the order
to haul us back to the gate. Apparently, the plane's electrical
system was down and there wasn't any juice to start the engines.
As we approached the gate, we could see
the plane's landing lights wink on. No sooner did the bus coast to a
halt at the gate entrance than the driver was ordered to take us back
to the plane. Evidently, a large battery was rolled out and the one
of the engines was jump started.
As we motored back to the plane, the
lady sitting across from me confessed, “I'm not sure I want to get
on a plane with no electrical power.”
“It's only an issue when taking off,”
I assured her. “It will come down all by itself.”
She looked at me wide eyed. I don't
think I calmed her fears.
We finally boarded and rolled down the
taxi way about 50 minutes late.
We landed without incident.
As Ron White said when his seatmate (in a panic) asked him how far the plane would go on one engine, "All the way to the scene of the crash."
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