The Only Living Boy in New York

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know your part'll go fine.
Fly down to Mexico-o-o.
Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da and here I am,
The only living boy in New York.
I get the news I need on the weather report.
Oh, I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.
Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.
Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da and here I am,
The only living boy in New York.
Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where,
And we don't know where...

- Paul Simon

Flight 844 boarded just a tad late and I was happy to be greeted by some FAs who recognized me. I settled into seat 2A, retrieved a proper set of noise cancellation headphones and soon settled into a mood of calm meditation as other passengers filed past. Several flights to and from JFK had been canceled by UA so this flight represented the consolidation of what had been three distinct flights. Despite this, the seat next to me was empty and only 18 out of 33 C seats were occupied. Coach on this flight is typically lightly filled, even in the best of times. The passenger load was clearly way down.

Employee Class service was the typical slimmed down version of what once was a very elegant service indeed, nearly rivaling what UA once proffered on some of their international routes, at least before these too were appreciably adulterated. But the service as orchestrated by the delightful chief purser, Gaynell Briggs, was wonderful. Her assistant, "whatshername", was a bit more glum but I think that could be forgiven under the circumstances.

After consuming my first drink, I could see that meal service was about to begin so I casually mentioned to Gaynell that one drink simply wouldn't cut it. So I suggested she bring me a glass of ice, a can of tonic and some Tanqueray bottles and when they appeared to be empty to please do it again. And she did.

The menu offered a choice of three main courses, from which I selected the chicken, figuring correctly that it would provide only moderate resistance to the edges of my plastic knife. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that UA had furnished me with not one but two plastic knives! As Gaynell was walking by, I asked her which one was the butter knife.

American Tune

Many's the time I've been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I'm all right, I'm all right
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

- Paul Simon

I watched “Enemy at the Gates” on my PVP, which proved to be a fairly intense flick about a Russian and German sniper stalking each other during World War II. I frequently find my mind drifting into bouts of abstract symbolism so it was rather difficult to keep my mind from wandering from the ruins, death and carnage depicted in the film to the ruins, death and carnage afflicted upon NYC, Washington DC, rural Pennsylvania and our country’s soul. From an old war to a new one. My wonderful FA, kept my glass of Pinot full throughout the entire flight.

And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees
Oh, but its all right, its all right
For we did so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
we’re travelling on
I wonder what’s going on,
I can’t help it, I wonder what’s going on

Shortly after the movie ended, we began our descent to New York. As Gaynell tucked an unopened bottle of Pinot under my arm, I dimmed the lights and stared outside. Besides all of the usual reasons, I was quite thankful that I wasn’t flying into LGA this evening. A very common flight path typically takes planes right along the Hudson, thereby affording passengers with a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline. I really didn't want to glimpse the scar on lower Manhattan right now.

Instead, we approached well south of the city. There was a slight haze in the air but it was clear enough to see the unusual glow towards the tip of the city. I could also distinctly appreciate the outlines of the statue of liberty glowing in the distance.

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We touched down gently at 8:00PM and crawled slowly along the tarmac towards terminal 7. Upon disembarking, I gave Gaynell a big hug and invited her to join me and other NYC-based FTers for dinner at Cite the following night. I soon found myself at the threshold of the RCC, where I was greeted warmly by four of the angels on duty. About eight other passengers milled about, presumably awaiting flights to South America. The bar tender handed me a mug of diet Coke, without any prompting on my part.

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's all right, it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest

I hung around the RCC a while, dividing my time between the concierges and the bar tender, who informed me that the terminal 6 RCC was now limiting its hours and shutting its doors at 6:00PM. After another 20 minutes, I called my driver and arranged to meet him outside. The pickup area was nearly deserted, although not deserted enough to prevent a rogue driver from trying to scam me by pretending he had been sent to pickup me up. Two minutes later, I clambered aboard the correct vehicle and began my one hour journey to northern Westchester.

I had made all of my hotel arrangements two weeks before the tragedy and Starwood hotel rates had been so expensive in NYC that I had planned to hang out in NJ during this visit and commute to work each day. When my client acquired a subsidiary in Morris Plains last year, they arranged for a free shuttle to travel between their two locations four times a day. After the tragedy, I become rather concerned about multi-hour delays crossing the George Washington Bridge, a heavily trafficked route rendered even more so by the closure of the Holland Tunnel. So I amended my itinerary to stay at the New York Hilton on Thursday night and at the Sheraton Russell the following Monday.