October 02 '04
Volume 435


Delayed Flights By Barbara Carter

Occasionally, I have to make a "flying" trip to places like Dallas, New Orleans, Santa Fe, or Indianapolis. In past years I have flown quite a bit, but usually with a group of folks with whom I work. Now, I often find myself boarding a flight alone.

I have come out of a shell as I have forced myself to start up conversations with those around me who may be taking the same flight that I am. When I find my seat, I usually start a conversation with my seatmate, if they don’t take the initiative. I must admit though, if the feedback is difficult or strained, I just drop the conversation and read or nap.

Last week I had booked a seat on the early (7:20 a.m.) flight out of Tupelo, to Memphis, connecting with the 9:40 a.m. flight to Dallas. In order to board the 7:20 a.m. flight it is necessary to be at the airport one hour early. I learned this the last time I was scheduled to fly from Tupelo at 7:20 a.m., and I failed to get to the airport until 6:50 a.m. They would not let me board that flight.

So, I arose at 4:30 a.m., on Wednesday morning, showered, had a cup of coffee and whatever my Jenny Craig breakfast was for that day, packed a few items and sat ready to head for the airport by 5:45 a.m. I did wait until 6:00 a.m. to leave, knowing that even with some traffic I could still make the Tupelo Regional Airport by 6:20 a.m. I did get there in plenty of time, and only had to wait a few minutes before my bag was checked and we were proceeding through the gate security screening.

I was observing the folks around me, still too sleepy to start up a conversation, when I spotted Congressman Roger Wicker moving from the final line of security checks. I noticed a bandaged left hand and wondered what in the world had happened. One guy was talking with the Congressman, and I strained to hear the conversation.

All I really understood the Congressman to say was, "like any good southern boy…" Others would periodically approach him and question him about his hand. I never heard the full story, so I just waited.

I thought, "if the opportunity presents itself, I will find out what happened, if not, I‘m sure he must be fine."

A senior citizen couple had come through the security, and the man had been delayed by a thorough checking of his briefcase. The woman, who appeared to be his wife, was questioning him about what they were checking.

Not intending to eavesdrop but seated so closely in the gate area, I overheard her say, "I’m going to put on another coat of nail polish when we get to the hotel. I put on my semi-support black pantyhose this morning, because they are just more comfortable traveling. Oh, you saw me wiggling into them?"

They then started talking with someone nearby about their trip. They were on their way to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, to meet some friends and then on to a trip to other sites in Canada.

There was a young attorney who was studying material for a deposition he was scheduled to take in Denver. He was trying to get to Memphis to make a connecting flight at 9:01 a.m. An older gentleman was seated nearby who said he was on his way to visit his 79 year old sister and 82 year old brother-in-law in Salt Lake City, Utah. The traveler said he was diabetic and he had his route planned so he could eat at the proper schedules to insure his blood sugar levels stayed intact.

At 7:00 a.m. we were ushered from the gate area out onto the tarmac, up the steps to the plane and seated. Everything was on schedule. I had seat 4-A, which is the lonely seat on the left side of these small commuter planes. I sat down, buckled my seat belt and stowed my purse under the seat in front of me, and waited.

Congressman Wicker entered the plane and took seat 1-C, which was an aisle seat three rows in front of me. The flight attendant closed the doors, went through her pre-flight instructions and took her seat, readying for take-off.

True to my new nature, I spoke to the gentleman seated across the aisle from me. I pointed to a headline in the local newspaper, which declared that routine exercise has been proven to reduce death from any cause. (I found this very amusing, because, if I die, I feel that there should be some cause.) He said he would be okay then, because he exercises at least three times a week.

The engines started, and suddenly I felt choked up by smoke. The cabin was becoming filled with smoke and it was getting difficult to breathe. My closest seatmate stated that the engine’s exhaust must have filtered through the cabin door, as the flight attendant was closing it. The flight attendant picked up the phone receiver by her jump seat and called the captain. She said there is smoke in the cabin. He must have instructed her to open the cabin door, because she did. I took this opportunity to get closer to the fresh air and moved up across from Congressman Wicker.

I said, "I know you must be tired of being asked about your hand, but I want to know what happened."

He laughed and told the flight attendant to just let him have the handset, so he could make an announcement. He told me that like any good southern boy, he was frying okra for his family, when a crock-pot fell from the cabinet above and landed in the pan of grease. He had second-degree burns from his fingertips to above his wrist, and the worst spot was in the palm of his hand. He had spent two nights in the hospital, just being released on Tuesday afternoon.

While we were talking, the Captain told the flight attendant to go ahead and get everyone off the plane. Fortunately, we were still on the ground and we could deplane and go back inside the terminal. Mechanics were summoned, and they began working on the plane. In a little while, they asked for a mechanic out of Memphis, since they could not get the plane to duplicate the problem we had experienced.

The ticket agents announced that the 7:20 a.m. flight to Memphis had been cancelled, and we needed to come to the counter to make arrangements for our flights. I opted to get a seat on the next flight, which was scheduled for 12:01 p.m. This meant that I would have to change my connection in Memphis to a 1:40 p.m. flight. With these arrangements made, I decided to go buy a cup of low fat yogurt for my morning snack. After I stopped at Wal Mart to purchase a cup of yogurt to eat, I decided to go back to the airport for about an hour and one-half wait.

I had just taken a seat in the lobby area when the ticket agent came through.

She said, "Ma’am, are you on the 12:01 flight to Memphis?"

"Yes", I replied.

"Well, we are going to try to get you out of here in just a few minutes, if you would like."

"That sounds good to me," I said as I thought, "At least I will have a little change of scenery and some shopping options in Memphis."

Back to the ticket counter to change again, I along with a few others went. From there we were sent back through gate security. You must realize that at the smaller Regional airports, the employees serve in many varied positions. The same ticket agent, who had informed me of the revision for the earlier departure, also went behind the counter, changed my ticket yet again, and served as the agent who checked our boarding pass and ID at the security screening. This was beginning to become quite comical, for she already knew each of us very well by now.

Four of us were sent through the screening and once again we sat at the departure gate. Our group had dwindled. The gentleman who was on his way to Salt Lake City, Utah, was there, a gentleman who worked for Stanley Tools was there, and me from the 7:20 a.m. flight group. Another gentleman had arrived early for the 12:01 p.m. flight and they put him with us. The plane landed from Memphis, bringing a few passengers and the needed mechanic. As soon as they were off the plane they escorted us out to board. I was in seat 6-A this time – an exit row. The flight attendant, the same one we had on the 7:20 plane, asked if I understood my responsibilities in the exit row.

"Yes," I replied, thinking, "If I can just get out of Tupelo, I will be happy to assist with any exiting we have to do."

The engines wouldn’t start this time. The captain tried and then he tried again. He called the flight attendant and asked her to get the mechanic to come look at this plane to help determine what this problem might be.

Very soon we were escorted off the plane, and back into the terminal. Would you believe, that at 11:30 a.m. we went back through security screening to the gate area, in line for the 12:01 p. m. flight. I had never felt so secure in all my life.

We were reunited with several of the original passengers from the 7:20 a.m. flight and several more who originally were scheduled for the 12:01 flight. Several folks had opted to rent cars or take their own vehicles and drive to Memphis. We had a full flight, which was uneventful, and we headed for the Memphis terminal and on to our various connections, just about three hours late for our final destinations.


Four – Five – Six Moon Glow Grandeur

My sister, Sarah, and Judy Rutledge once taught school in the same building and saw each other on a regular basis. Judy and Sarah must have swapped quite a few flower garden stories over the years, sharing what plant worked well in what type of soil, as well as their respective success and failures. As I recall, Sarah brought home some seeds that Judy had given her, which Sarah also shared with Barbara.

"These are moon glow seeds," I imagine Sarah might have stated. "According to Judy Rutledge, if you’ll nick the seeds and soak them overnight before planting them, you’ll increase their chances of sprouting. They’ll need something to climb on, so I think you should plant them by the old trellis in your backyard."

Moon glow plants produce a large, beautiful white bloom that survives but a single night, before shriveling up the following morning. Blooms are circular with a star shaped support system, and while a five-inch bloom is common, some can easily span a full six inches.

I don’t recall how early the seeds were planted that first year, but I remember the plants thrived, bloomed frequently, and produced enough seeds to last us several planting seasons. For the past several years, Barbara has planted our moon glow seed around Memorial Day. Barbara is not a gardener, but she’ll get the seeds in the ground. Afterwards, it’s pretty much in the Lord’s hands whether or not they sprout and thrive. Oh, I help the Lord on an "as needed" basis, pulling up weeds or grass that threatens the moon glow plants and in periods of drought, I’ve been known to turn on the sprinklers.

Because the plants take two or three months to mature, folks attending our fish fry in late July never get a chance to appreciate the large and beautiful blooms that typically appear in September and must wonder why there’s a bare spot in the flowerbed along the brick wall between our main house and the guest house. It’s not completely bare since a heart-shaped metal trellis stands there, patiently waiting for the moon glow plants to climb it. One day, perhaps, Barbara may try starting the plants indoors and then transplanting them so that our party guests in July can enjoy the blooms, too.

This year, Barbara purchased a pack of seeds from Wal Mart, because most of the ones we salvaged from last year’s crop appeared faulty. Our moon glow plants have produced blooms almost every evening for the past couple of weeks. At first, we only had one or two blooms each night, but as plant’s leaves have begun to die back, we’ve been treated to three and sometimes four blooms each evening.

Over the weekend, I was startled as four blooms appeared on Friday and Saturday nights, five blooms opened on Sunday night, and six unfolded Monday evening. On Tuesday only two blooms welcomed the night, but Wednesday evening's total climbed back up to six.

This year I fulfilled a pledge I made to myself several years ago¾ that of watching a bloom open from the moment the spiral-twisted pod first begins to expose the outer edges of the white flower until it’s fully bloomed. I timed one such opening, and from start to finish, the event lasted less than two minutes. On another occasion, I was about to time the opening, when a puff of breeze struck the bloom, and in the blink of an eye, the bloom opened fully.

Recently, I had the opportunity to hear a portion of a discussion by Felder Rushing on Mississippi Public Broadcasting in which he answered a viewer’s question regarding the moon glow plant. Felder explained the plant is engineered to open in the late afternoon and bloom throughout the night. It’s brilliant white bloom attracts large moths and other night-flying insects that aid in pollination. The moon glow is just one of the many plants and animals that have thrived over the centuries by carving out a special niche in our world through adaptation. At dusk, my backyard is a little brighter when the moon glows are blooming, and my world is made slightly more enjoyable by their splendor. Try them in yours.

Note: Additional photos can be viewed at www.rrnews.org/moonglow.


Bodock Beau Retirement Project

I don’t quite know what I’ll do to make my days interesting when I finally retire, but I like the following idea.

Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. I went to the store the other day. I was only in there for about five minutes. When I came out there was a city cop writing out a parking ticket.

I went up to him and said, "Come on, buddy, how about giving a senior a break?"

He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I called him a name. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So I called him a worse name. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.

Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him the more tickets he wrote. I didn't care.

My car was parked around the corner, and this one had an "Elect John Kerry" bumper sticker on it.

I try to have a little fun each day now that I’m retired.

Contributed by Robert Chandler

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Jesus and Satan were having an ongoing argument about who was better on his computer. They had been going at it for days, and God was tired of hearing all the bickering. Finally, God said, "Cool it. I am going to set up a test which will take two hours and I will judge who does the better job." So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away.

They did spreadsheets. They wrote reports. They sent faxes. They sent e-mail. They sent out e-mail with attachments. They downloaded. They did some genealogy reports. They made cards. They did every known job.

But, ten minutes before the time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, thunder rolled, the rain poured and, of course, the electricity went off. Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed in every curse word known in the underworld. Jesus just sighed.

The electricity finally flickered back on, and each of them restarted their computers. Satan started searching frantically screaming, "It's gone! It's all gone! I lost everything when the power went out!"

Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all his files from the past two hours. Satan observed this and became even more irate. "Wait! He cheated! How did he do it?"

God shrugged and said, "Jesus Saves"

Contributed by Gwen Cottrell

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