Dialing "1" under pressure

To dial one, or not to dial one, that is the question. At least it’s kind of the question I asked myself yesterday. There are two different area codes for the city of Portland, one of them is 503, the other one is something I can never remember. In part, because I just don’t run across it very often, and considering the number people I talk to every month, tells me that there really aren’t that many people with this other area code. So, I’m in the process of calling someone back who has left me a voice mail. I dial “9” to get the outside line, then the area code (not 503) and the number. Well, of course this area code is not that other area code I can never remember. It’s for someplace other than Portland, even though the caller is calling about a their home address here in Portland.

So, you know what happened, I got that annoying recording telling if I need to dial “1” when calling this number. Usually I just hang up and dial again using the “1” as directed. I’m such a mindless drone! For some reason yesterday, this recording really irked me. For one thing aren’t area codes unique? So if you’ve dialed an area code doesn’t the system know where to send the call? How does dialing “1” add anything to the process? The system obviously knew it needed a “1” so why didn’t it just send the call one. Why to I have to put in something you already know is part of it? And, why does the “1” on a long distance call still even exist?

Why can I make the same call, without the “1”, on my cell phone and there’s no annoying recording. It goes through, no problemo lameo! Why are land lines not keeping up with cell technology? I have a theory, of course. They want to piss up all off so we will all move over to cell phone service. Which we are as individuals, but at work we still have land lines to deal with.

My co-work, the ever sane Stephen, watching me have my mini meltdown over the issue of the “1”, just smiled and said, “Rhetta, I hope you’re not going to lose sleep of this.” He is now my meditation master. The one to call me down from the ledge. The one who will gently take the gun and unload it, while speaking in a calm and steady voice.

After my run in with the “1” I heard about the flight attendant who had the meltdown, gave a piece of his mind to an ill behaved passenger and then lowered the escape ramp and left with a couple of beers. You know I can really sympathize with this guy, and there have been many times over the past 15 years that I’ve worked with the public, that would have loved to do something very similar. Hell, I wanted to do it yesterday with phone company! You’ve read my blog on municipal black ops hit squad. But, so far I’ve managed to walk away without losing it. I’m just hoping that trend will continue.

It’s only a matter of time before there is a really nasty issue in the air, not involving a terrorist. It will however, involve a customer who has reached the absolute end of their rope. Flying used to be a civilized activity, people dressed nicely, and were treated very well. Now some passengers don’t even bath before getting on planes, and we’re all treated like cattle being transported to the slaughter house. Hell, cattle are probably treated better.

You have to have the patience of Job to fly commercial today. You wait in line to be checked in, unless you’re paid an extra fee so you can pass through the express line. Then you have to pay if you actually want to take luggage with you on your trip. Airlines used to want you to check your luggage and NOT carry it onboard with you. Now they have devised a system that has everyone carrying their luggage onboard. Next, you wait in line to pass through security, unless you’ve paid extra to pass through the express line.

Once through security, you’re alone and lugging all the stuff, you used to check, with you down the long hall looking for your gate. Along the way you want to pick up a bottle of water, since you had to leave your’s at security. You even think about getting a magazine to read while you wait to board the plane. After paying five dollars for a small bottle of water, you decide you can’t really afford to look at magazines and continue your three mile trudge to the gate, to wait some more.

Because you didn’t buy a first class ticket, an obviously indictment against your worth to society, you have to wait while the “special” people board first. Of course, as you board, somewhere in the middle of the pack, it’s impossible to get down the aisle because everyone is trying to stow their luggage. Once you find your seat, you have to try to find a place to stow your luggage. It worse than fighting off a pack of wild wolves to get your stuff put away before some else grabs the spot, usually some tall, oblivious 20 year old.

You’re finally seated and now you have to start worrying about who will be setting next to you, and in front of you, and behind you. These people will, to a great extent, be determining the level of your comfort for the next several hours. You get the mom with the screaming baby, of the child that likes to kick the back of your seat, or the guy in front who thinks it acceptable to lean his seat all the way back. Who is there a reclining function on an airline seat? Who thought that was a good idea? There are also the people with stinky feet who take their shoes off, the ones who pass gas and the ones who smoked a pack of cigarettes just before boarding. And, the heavy drinkers!

Then, just because this experience isn’t as awful as it could be, let’s just throw in a machincal difficulty that delays takeoff for, oh I don’t know, two hours!

It’s true that planes should have a warning, like aerosol cans, “Caution: Contents under pressure.” In fact, this warning could be spray painted across most public buildings as well.

Getting there from here

The daughter, Kristin, has informed me that they will likely be heading to Ft Riley, Kansas at the end of the year. Understandably I’ve been lobbying for Ft Lewis, here in Washington, but Ft Riley should be a better commute to visit. When I asked why they chose Kansas, she said because it was central to all the grandparents and didn’t overly favor one over another. Well, at least they will be closer.

I don’t know about you but 5 hours confined in a plane over nothing but ocean is wearing on my nerves. Not to mention the whole trying to avoid going to the restroom on a plane thing. Which is one of life’s truly torturous, and mentally scaring experiences, second only to wedging your backend into those tiny seats between two people you don’t know and have no desire to get to know. Basically commercial flight is just one big pain that the pharmaceutical companies have invented a cure or treatment for yet.

So the other day I did a Goggle search on Ft Riley and found that it is in the big middle of nowhere. Actually, it might be about 3 miles beyond nowhere. We’re talking 200 miles from Kansas City, and 100 miles from Topeka, no airport!! Still I figured I could fly into Kansas City and do a puddle hopper, or rent a car. So I do a quick check on air fare and schedules. I’m floored! It’s more expensive! I have my choice; I can do a 7 hour layover in Denver, or a 5 hour layover in Denver. I’d be on layover longer than it takes to fly to Hawaii!! Oddly enough, the layovers on the return flights were only an hour. Can anyone explain that?!

So, I thought I’d check Amtrak, 3 days there and 3 days back. Apparently you can’t get to Kansas from here in any reasonable timeframe.

My sister suggested that I contact the Army and see about a high altitude drop. I’m not sure how that would work on the return trip. I remember in the movie The Green Berets they hooked a guy up to a big balloon, had a plane flew over, grabbed the line, and swung him up at high speed. I could probably do the drop, but that kind of return just isn’t going to work for me.

Oddly enough I don’t mind military transport. Granted it’s a completely no-frills kind of ride, you don’t even have conventional seats. The seats are really just butt hammocks hug along the sides. It’s cold, really, really loud, and the windows are too high and small for a view. The trick is to get on bundled up in layers, bring something you can drape over your head and get yourself comfy in the hammock and go to sleep. You wouldn’t think sleeping would be possible with the loud engines, but it’s like having a big fan going at a really high speed, A LOT of white noise. You sleep like a baby. You can also read and if something is funny, you can laugh out loud and no one will mind, because they can’t hear you. You’ll just look like on of those strange people that talk to themselves.