Part II - This is Your Captain Speaking - The Woman from Australia

Thought for the Day

Part II Continuation of: This is Your Captain Speaking

Flying on a commercial airliner provides you with a very measurable feeling of having no input on outcome.  All you are empowered to do is ride. You are going where the airplane is going. You will do whatever the airplane does. When your view begins with your level of competence as a pilot, you are happy the situation you are in is the way it is.  But, for some of us powerlessness is a most unattractive condition. Even the word powerlessness is unsettling. And any mention of your lack of training as a pilot is irrelevant.

The flight was so rough there was never any service of any kind. Bathroom trips were at your peril. We were flying directly into the jet stream. It was a very long trip. By the time we arrived I was exhausted. I went to the rental agency and got a car, then drove into town and went to my hotel.

There could not have been a better place to be than The Mark Hopkins. I had arranged earlier for accommodations to be provided for me whenever I was in the city. I had a special arrangement with them. They knew how to take care of a guest. Because of the frequency of my visits I had an excellent rate. The accommodations were spectacular at any price but for the rate I paid, they were ridiculous. There was a large room with a view of both the Golden Gate and Bay bridges. There was enough fruit to rival a small produce market. Nuts and snacks of all varieties abounded and there was a full bar, completely stocked with every premium liquor one could wish for. I put my things away and took a long shower hoping to wash off the incredibly negative day I had experienced to that point. After a towel off with luxurious Egyptian cotton towels I dressed and went downstairs to the lobby bar and sat with Max, the bartender to tell him about my morning.

I had not settled into my seat before Dan Sotelo, the concierge, was at my side inquiring if there was anything I needed. I asked about the theater options and he said that Camelot was at the Orpheum and Richard Burton had the lead as Arthur. Yes, I told him. If you can get me a seat I would be most grateful. He just looked at me and said, you may count on it sir. I didn’t even discuss seat location. I knew that was completely unnecessary. So the evening held the promise of a delightful diversion and I could decompress until then.

I started a conversation with Max. He and I were the only people in the bar except a woman at the far end of the bar who was using the house phone to make business calls. She was pretty quiet so it was almost as if she wasn’t there. Max was a diversion all by himself. He was a retired San Francisco cop who had seen and done about everything you could think of and a number of things you wouldn’t want to.

There were some union – management debates going on that had to do with the wait staff, bar staff and hotel support staff. Max was getting me up to speed on the points of friction when the woman at the far end of the bar came to our end and offered to buy me a drink. Her reason, she explained was to apologize for the disturbance she had caused by her telephone conversations. I thanked her and declined. I told her she had not been a disturbance at all.

I turned back to Max and she interrupted again by explaining that she was from Australia and had been all over the US and Europe to introduce a non alcoholic wine that her company produced. She went on to say she had been on the road for a week and with the time difference had found it difficult to sleep since she had to work with her company in Australia when she should have been sleeping.

She told Max to open a bottle of her wine and pour me a glass. She told us how they had developed a special process of  protecting and retaining the esters in the wine so that the flavor and aromas were unchanged from that which had alcohol in it. She asked how I liked it. I said it was OK. She wanted more feedback. I told her I wasn’t ready to sample and analyze her wine but would perhaps try it tomorrow and let Max know how I liked it. About that time a small group, about four people came in who were her friends. After a cocktail party greeting of air kisses, nods and touchless hugs they asked her to join them in one of the rooms of the hotel.

At that point she seemed to become a little agitated. Then she started to cry in a way that was far too severe to have anything to do with what had just happened. Her friends’ efforts to calm her seemed to create the opposite effect. Her crying was by then but a foundation for the histrionics of someone completely out of control. I looked at Max; he started wiping glasses and tried to blend in with the ferns. I slid off my seat and without delay removed myself from the bar.

To be continued….

©Herb Ratliff, August 24, 2012, All Rights Reserved