(Still) Under Construction
Postmodern Sass Goes To The U.K. Part III
continued from Part II
July 1, 2005
Canada Day
The irony of leaving Canada on Canada Day is not lost on me.
It's starting to look familiar: I'm sitting at the bar in the remote terminal, a building which feels in no way temporary, having a Heineken. I remember sitting here a year ago, at this same bar, waiting for a flight to London. This time, my flight is departing from gate 529, which happens to be right beside the bar.
It's a very nice bar. Cute red halogen lamps. Like I said, nothing about this place looks temporary.
It's 10:05. I have 40 minutes. I might have two Heinekens.
The bartender's nametag reads Jagdev. He looks Indian, and I am reminded of Mridul, whom I called this afternoon, but got his voice mail, and the ratfink didn't call me back. Well, it's a holiday, and I know he was off today, but still, all week at The Banknote he'd been telling me that he had something for me and that he had to give it to me before I left.
"A first class upgrade coupon?" I asked.
"Almost," he replied, "A pass for the Maple Leaf Lounge."
Hmn. Not quite the same thing. Still, I'd've taken it. Free beer is always preferable to a $6 Heineken.
There's a mural on the wall behind the bar, a black and white photograph of a Toronto street I recognize, though can't place. In the photo there is a sign for Giovanna Trattoria Pizzeria. I'm sure I've passed that place, and not long ago. I take a sip of my beer and study the photo for clues. Because of the mirrored bar, bottles, and other obstacles covering it, I can't tell whether the mural is a collage, or one large photo.
Jagdev notices my examination. "Go around the corner," he suggests. So I do.
It's not a collage. It's College Street. The photo wraps not just to the side of the bar, but all the way around the back. I recognize the block where Ciao Edie is.
I walk all the way around the bar, back to my seat and my beer. Jagdev is closing down. He asks me where I'm from, then where I'm going.
I tell him, then I tell him how it's crazy in T1, all the Air Canada domestic flights and international flights, checking in together, all through aisle C, while aisles D through... Z, maybe, are vacant. You could fire a cannon through the terminal and not hit anyone, unless you aimed it at aisle C. Seriously. The queue extended all the way back to aisle G. I stood in it for an hour before they pulled we Glaswegian bounds out to an express check-in desk.
That always happens. It makes me wonder why they make us queue up at all. Why not just herd us into a lounge area, then call us by flight to check in? It seems to me it'd save a lot of time.
Jagdev says something about what one should expect from $10/hour employees. I ask what does he mean. Seasonals, he says. Summer is high season to Europe. The agents are part timers; students.
Next year, maybe I'll meet with my advisors in February.
Yeah, I know, but it's cold there in July, too.
If I crane my neck I can see gate 529 without leaving the bar. A new departure time has been posted: 23:15.
Fuck.
I've missed last call. Jagdev has finished mopping the floor around me — he asked me to move just for a moment, then said I was welcome to stay at the bar — and has left.
I sip my Heineken as slowly as I can, and write.
At 10:50 they announce that the flight is ready for "pre-boarding."
What does that mean? How can you pre-board a flight? Either you board, or you don't board, don't you?
* * *
Go to Postmodern Sass Goes To The U.K. Part IV
continued from Part II
July 1, 2005
Canada Day
The irony of leaving Canada on Canada Day is not lost on me.
It's starting to look familiar: I'm sitting at the bar in the remote terminal, a building which feels in no way temporary, having a Heineken. I remember sitting here a year ago, at this same bar, waiting for a flight to London. This time, my flight is departing from gate 529, which happens to be right beside the bar.
It's a very nice bar. Cute red halogen lamps. Like I said, nothing about this place looks temporary.
It's 10:05. I have 40 minutes. I might have two Heinekens.
The bartender's nametag reads Jagdev. He looks Indian, and I am reminded of Mridul, whom I called this afternoon, but got his voice mail, and the ratfink didn't call me back. Well, it's a holiday, and I know he was off today, but still, all week at The Banknote he'd been telling me that he had something for me and that he had to give it to me before I left.
"A first class upgrade coupon?" I asked.
"Almost," he replied, "A pass for the Maple Leaf Lounge."
Hmn. Not quite the same thing. Still, I'd've taken it. Free beer is always preferable to a $6 Heineken.
There's a mural on the wall behind the bar, a black and white photograph of a Toronto street I recognize, though can't place. In the photo there is a sign for Giovanna Trattoria Pizzeria. I'm sure I've passed that place, and not long ago. I take a sip of my beer and study the photo for clues. Because of the mirrored bar, bottles, and other obstacles covering it, I can't tell whether the mural is a collage, or one large photo.
Jagdev notices my examination. "Go around the corner," he suggests. So I do.
It's not a collage. It's College Street. The photo wraps not just to the side of the bar, but all the way around the back. I recognize the block where Ciao Edie is.
I walk all the way around the bar, back to my seat and my beer. Jagdev is closing down. He asks me where I'm from, then where I'm going.
I tell him, then I tell him how it's crazy in T1, all the Air Canada domestic flights and international flights, checking in together, all through aisle C, while aisles D through... Z, maybe, are vacant. You could fire a cannon through the terminal and not hit anyone, unless you aimed it at aisle C. Seriously. The queue extended all the way back to aisle G. I stood in it for an hour before they pulled we Glaswegian bounds out to an express check-in desk.
That always happens. It makes me wonder why they make us queue up at all. Why not just herd us into a lounge area, then call us by flight to check in? It seems to me it'd save a lot of time.
Jagdev says something about what one should expect from $10/hour employees. I ask what does he mean. Seasonals, he says. Summer is high season to Europe. The agents are part timers; students.
Next year, maybe I'll meet with my advisors in February.
Yeah, I know, but it's cold there in July, too.
If I crane my neck I can see gate 529 without leaving the bar. A new departure time has been posted: 23:15.
Fuck.
I've missed last call. Jagdev has finished mopping the floor around me — he asked me to move just for a moment, then said I was welcome to stay at the bar — and has left.
I sip my Heineken as slowly as I can, and write.
At 10:50 they announce that the flight is ready for "pre-boarding."
What does that mean? How can you pre-board a flight? Either you board, or you don't board, don't you?
Go to Postmodern Sass Goes To The U.K. Part IV
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