Last Flight Home

There are four of us waiting standby at Chicago's O'Hare airport for the last flight to Bradley Field serving Hartford/ Springfield, Ma. We had all arrived late from the west coast and missed our connections.

The other three men are travelling together and look to be 20 to 30 years my junior.We all surrender our tickets to the agent to see if any seats open up. We are warned that it doesn't look good. Afterall it is a Friday night and people are trying to get somewhere for the weekend. If I can't get on this flight it means spending the night in Chicago.

The waiting room fills up with booked passengers.Where did all these people come from? Couples with little children. Why are they taking such a late flight. Certainly I can't expect to take a seat away from a child. Besides it is past her bedtime. I'm mentally preparing myself for night on the waiting room floor.

The boarding process begins. It seems to take forever. Some more passengers arrive and check in during the boarding. Finally the waiting area is empty except for four
stadbys. The agent sends a colleague down the jetway to see it there are any empty seats. We wait in silence by the ticket counter. I say a silent prayer that we will all get aboard.

The door to the jetway finally opens and the agent announces, "There are three empty seats."

The three men make a bee line for the open door leaving me standing by the counter.
The agent with the tickets turns to me and asks, "What is your name?"

I tell her and she motions for me to follow her. We walk down the jetway to the door of the airplane. She stops and smiles, "You get to sit in first class."

Sam Retlas
West Sprinfield, Ma.