Below The Equator II: The Incident At Gate 47

Below The Equator I: I Don’t Need A R... Below The Equator III: Getting Down t...

Below The Equator II: The Incident At Gate 47

[The afternoon of January 2, 2025 found me sitting on a sofa in the lobby of a Hostel. Photo is mine.]

Some travel is more of a nuisance than a hardship, but travel is always a mental challenge, and even at its most difficult, travel can be an enlightenment.

~~Paul Theroux

The original title of this blog post was: “So Far And Not So Far“. Then I decided it was going to be: “I Am Exactly Where I Need To Be“. But after more thought, I figured that the illustration above would take care of that sentiment.

It was mostly written in a cafe just yards away from Gate 47 in the International Departures Terminal of JFK. I never finished writing. We had to make our way to the exit doors and find a particular car service to take us back home. Ten minutes earlier, I had left Mariam in a seat at Gate 47 to browse the Hudson News for a book or magazine. I only had about three paperbacks and four book review sections already packed, but you never know what might befall your carefully made plans. My cell rang. It was Mariam. I could almost see her from where I stood studying the issues of Auto World and Cigar Aficionado when I answered.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Our flight has been put off until tomorrow morning,” she said.

Silence on my end.

“*#!@”, I said. That’s when we went to ponder our options at O’ Neal’s and I wrote the bit below on my iPad. (Not an easy thing to do.)

[The Board at JFK. Notice the dark yellow panel. Photo is mine.]

It was 11:15 pm. What follows is the blog I wrote after our flight was cancelled:

It’s funny how things can go sideways on New Year’s Eve, while Jingle Bell Rock is playing faintly in the crowded halls of JFK…in a violent thunder and lightning storm.

Did I say it was New Year’s Eve?

I should be sitting in a Buenos Aires cafe and telling you how nice it is in the warmth of the Southern Hemisphere summer. Yes, I should.

Instead I’m finishing breakfast at O’Neal’s. A little restaurant across from Gate 4. (I had an egg & bacon croissant). And I’m writing this.

Our adventure has begun and we haven’t left the airport yet. In fact, instead of watching three movies and trying to sleep in a seat proportioned for a nine-year-old, we slept in our own bed last night. If 1.8 hours of downtime can be considered a nights sleep.

Let me tell you my story in one go…

Two hours before our departure last night, we were told that the flight was canceled until this morning. After a confusing session with American Airlines agents, we were told that because we lived in the City, a hotel would not be covered. We had to go home. Car service was late…that’s when the lightening started to flash over Jamaica Bay. I was soaked getting into the car. The driver began texting while we made our way out of the tangled web of roads that are the arteries of JFK. He stopped after I read him the so-called riot act.

I could go on for another few pages but I think you get the idea, my lovely readers, of how things went sideways, on a stormy night, on New Year’s Eve, at the edge of New York City.

Oh, and I do wish that the nice lady that comes on the PA system, would stop saying that firearms are not permitted when going through the Security Gates.

Isn’t that a given?

Okay, now we’re in real time. Out flight left on time. It was fairly smooth until about hour 8 when the turbulence began. It lasted until three minutes before touchdown. Let’s just say that between my abject terror, restless legs and back pain, I was not a happy person when we deplaned at the BA airport. I have no idea when we crossed the Equator, but it was likely around 3 or 4 am. Another taxi fiasco played out on our way into the city. That deserves an entire blog of its own. If I don’t ever get around to writing it, just find me on the streets of Owego (when I go for a visit) and buy me a mint tea and I’ll tell you the story. Here’s a teaser: The driver pulled over on an interstate-like highway, got out, opened my door and handed me the key. All because I demanded that he stop turning around and asking for his fare. Is everyone on the roads these days totally insane or just the two drivers we had in two days?

It’s the end of our first day in BA. We haven’t had time to see any sights because we slept in. I turned out the light at 6:00 am.

We went shopping for some staples. A few blocks from our apartment, we stopped at Ciro for lunch. Two very nice servers took very nice care of two very weary Yanks.