{"id":1846,"date":"2011-10-19T21:36:55","date_gmt":"2011-10-20T04:36:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.singleoccupancyblog.com\/?p=1846"},"modified":"2023-12-27T21:29:59","modified_gmt":"2023-12-28T01:29:59","slug":"flying-standby","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/perspectives\/flying-standby\/","title":{"rendered":"A Single Snapshot: Flying Standby"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve got eight seconds to decide whether I jump on that flight, or wait for the next available one nearly a full day later. In my mind, I\u2019m scanning through my options, rapid-fire, like a spinning rolodex. Do I take that last seat, knowing the only reason it\u2019s been offered to me is that I\u2019m traveling alone? Or do I offer it to Olivia? She\u2019s been waiting around in airports for four days now\u2014in good spirits, I might add\u2014but she\u2019s only ten years old for heaven\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n

Take the seat? Give it up? I have eight seconds to decide.<\/p>\n

Flying standby when you\u2019ve missed your flight isn\u2019t a pleasant experience.<\/strong> Never having done it before, I couldn\u2019t have known the emotional toll it would take.<\/p>\n

During my night in Newark airport, I meet and befriend Dan*, a photographer living in Beijing, and his daughter Olivia*. Olivia couldn\u2019t have been more than nine or ten years old, tall, with large curious eyes and long blond hair. Her father is quite easy on the eyes too, tall and lean like his daughter, with sandy tousled hair and a pair of tired eyes darting behind the frames of his black tortoiseshell glasses. I like him instantly, as he carries a skateboard under his arm which he whips out from time to time to ferry himself around the airport terminal. Sitting across from one another at the gate, we exchange stories of woe: me, stranded by a run of bad luck<\/a> and he, on his fourth day of waiting around in airports, having been stranded in LAX for two days while the airlines get back on track after Hurricane Irene and, like me, \u201cmissing\u201d the flight to London.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m surprised by how happy and well-adjusted Olivia seems to be. She smiles, timid but bright, and I can\u2019t believe she\u2019s been stranded for four days. Industrious, she makes the most of her time by applying colorful nail polish to her toes. I chat politely with her father over the sharp \u00a0odor of the lacquer and learn that he\u2019s taking her home to her mother in London.<\/p>\n

As he speaks, I think about what it must be like to live his life, jetsetting between the UK and China, looking the way he does. There\u2019s a note of sadness in his voice, too. Maybe he\u2019s divorced or estranged from Olivia\u2019s mother and I realize he must not see his daughter often. But he is pleasant, although understandably impatient to get his daughter home and to get back to his life in Beijing.<\/p>\n

When we miss the last flight to London for the night, Dan\u2014skateboard-powered–reaches the customer service desk ahead of me. His name and Olivia\u2019s get on the standby list for the morning flight before mine. Before mine<\/em>. \u00a0I find myself hoping for a minimum of three open seats.<\/p>\n

Overnight, they sleep mere feet away from me, their lithe frames huddled together for warmth in the cold terminal. I want to offer Olivia my sleep sack to use as a blanket, but they are already asleep so I burrow further into it, terrified that I won\u2019t get to Scotland at all. In my heart, I\u2019m wishing that three people booked on the morning flight oversleep, or get stuck in traffic, or cancel. I\u2019m surprised by how mercenary my predicament has made me\u2014or maybe I\u2019ve been that way all along.<\/p>\n

You see, what they don\u2019t tell you about flying standby is that the hope is the worst part. Waiting through flight after flight for the gate attendant to call your name and being disappointed when it doesn\u2019t happen. The hope gnaws at your soul like a coyote on carrion, leaving little behind but desperation. Overnight, I steel myself against the hope, preparing myself for the inevitable news that I won\u2019t be able to leave for London Heathrow Airport until almost 24 hours later.<\/p>\n

In the morning, I wake early. The airport comes to life as passengers and flight crew begin streaming past. As Dan and Olivia and I stand waiting as our flight boards, the gate attendant calls my name. And I know instinctively from the expression on her face, there\u2019s only one seat left.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve got eight seconds to decide whether I jump on that flight, or wait for the next available one nearly a full day later. In my mind, I\u2019m scanning through my options, rapid-fire, like a spinning rolodex. Do I take that last seat, knowing the only reason it\u2019s been offered to me is that I\u2019m traveling alone? Or do I offer it to Olivia? She\u2019s been waiting around in airports for four days now\u2014in good spirits, I might add\u2014but she\u2019s only ten years old for heaven\u2019s sake.<\/em><\/p>\n

Take the seat? Give it up? I have eight seconds to decide.<\/em><\/p>\n

The gate attendant calls my name again and her voice sounds muffled and slow, as though spoken over a great distance. In that moment, the decision is made.\u00a0 My body quickens to action, hand curling around the handle of my backpack, bicep muscles contracting as I lift, feet moving me toward the jet bridge.<\/p>\n

This is my chance, too. And I\u2019m taking it.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

As I walk down the dimly lit corridor, my eyes prick with tears. While I\u2019m grateful to get the last seat on the flight, the truth is I\u2019m torn too. I know that had the situation been reversed Dan would have made the same choice as I had, that he probably would have refused an offer that would have put his daughter on a transatlantic flight alone, but that doesn\u2019t make me feel any better. I take my seat in an exit row above the right wing, suddenly giddy with delight that I get the roomy seat without having to pay extra for it. Memories of Dan and Olivia quickly sink beneath this wave of euphoria and soon they are forgotten. I place my carry on bag beneath the seat in front of me and buckle my seat belt in preparation for takeoff.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not until our flight is firmly in the air that I see it in black and white, plain as day: No Children This Row<\/em>.<\/p>\n

While I\u2019m not one for believing in signs and such, those four words absolve me of any lingering guilt.<\/p>\n

Scotland, I\u2019m finally on my way.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Alrighty folks–‘fess up. What would you have done? Taken the seat? Offered it to Olivia? I’d love to know what others might have done in my place.<\/strong><\/p>\n

*Names have been changed<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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Climbing the old stone staircase to the second floor of the Gruuthuse Museum in Brugge, Belgium, I am struck by the sunlight streaming through the nearby stained glass window, landing on the steps in a cascade of color.\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Perspectives"","block_context":{"text":"Perspectives","link":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/category\/perspectives\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wanderlustforone.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/gruuthuse-museum-sign.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wanderlustforone.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/gruuthuse-museum-sign.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wanderlustforone.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/gruuthuse-museum-sign.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wanderlustforone.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/gruuthuse-museum-sign.jpg?resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2547,"url":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/destinations\/pacific-coast-here-i-come\/","url_meta":{"origin":1846,"position":5},"title":"Pacific Coast – Here I Come!","author":"Marsha S.","date":"June 14, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"Hey, everyone! I'm finally off adventuring again, this time on the West Coast of the United States. Join me as I drive almost the entire length of the Pacific Coast, from San Diego to Seattle, and hit some highlights in between. Things didn't start out so well last night. My\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Destinations"","block_context":{"text":"Destinations","link":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/category\/destinations\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1846","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1846"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1846\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5206,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1846\/revisions\/5206"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1846"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1846"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wanderlustforone.com\/staging\/3560\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1846"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}