This past week found me returning home to Alaska. Of course, I had to overnight in Seattle, which is fine by me. When I checked into my hotel by SeaTac airport, I asked about the airport shuttle. It leaves on the hour and half hour. Fantastic!
Here we are the next morning and I depart my room with 10 minutes to spare for the shuttle departure. I check out and wait patiently in the lounge by the front door. Another gentleman arrives and we both wait for the shuttle. The shuttle driver arrives and escorts us to the waiting van.
I am ecstatic! The shuttle gods have finally smiled down on me and I am lucky enough to be first on the van to get the front bench seat. Sweet! It’s a strange little van that offers two seats on the driver’s side, an aisle way and then a single seat on the passenger side. For as long as I can remember I always get stuck having to climb the gauntlet of that “aisle” to get a seat in the back. Well not today! As I enjoy the smugness of my success, a third man shows up for the shuttle.
It’s now 8:32AM and we’re two minutes late for departure. Suddenly I hear him tell the driver, “My friend is coming. He’s on his way down and will be here in 10 seconds.”
Silently I start counting to 10.
The driver comes around and looks at me and shrugs.
We start talking about the weather.
The friend finally says, “oh here he comes.”
Now it’s 8:40AM and these two guys finally get on the shuttle.
Sweet justice — you two get stuck in the back of the van. HA! Here comes that smug feeling again.
The two of us who managed to be ON TIME didn’t even acknowledge these two late people. Whatever, get in the van and sit down already.
And then the following exchange of words happened, not kidding:
Friend 1: I told these guys that if they didn’t want to wait the 1 minute for you, they could arm wrestle you when you arrived.
Friend 2: That’s okay. I haven’t killed anything in 3 days.
Friend 1: Remember our pact.
Still no response from myself and the second passenger who were on time. Complete and utter silence from us. Not even a rustle of a coat.
Wow, you two think you’re all that and a bag of chips! Hate to tell you but you aren’t even the pickle on the plate. Your buddy didn’t say a word to us in the first place and who the hell cares if you’ve been hunting. I’m not impressed, I don’t find you funny and I think you are rude individuals who believe only your time is important.
I hate that.