Asses & Elbows

A very short post here while I'm scrambling to get ready to take a deposition via Zoom. We were supposed to be in-person, in Houston, and I was sufficiently concerned about the fickle weather along the Gulf coast this time of year that I chose to fly commercial rather than getting myself there in the mighty Columbia.

That was a mistake, compounded by the fact that my legal assistant booked me on American. They're notoriously not very good at what they do, and yesterday was no exception.

We boarded on time at ECP, but after taxiing maybe fifty yards the plane stopped on the tarmac, and the captain announced that there was weather in Dallas (our destination on my first hop), and the plane wasn't adequately fueled for the new route of flight that apparently took us over the North Pole, or something like that. So we sat there waiting for a fuel truck for I don't know how long (I fell asleep), and after a time the voice on the intercom announced we were returning to the gate so they could refuel us there.

Once at the gate we sat in the plane for maybe ten minutes, then were told we could disembark--but don't go far! If we get the green light to depart we're leaving right away, with or without you.

Once back in the terminal I noted that the lower concourse bar was now closed, missing a great opportunity to spread good cheer and make a lot of money. Folks were called to the gate desk one-by-one to discuss missed connections and travel options. I watched the weather on my phone, surmised things in Dallas weren't getting better anytime soon, and walked back through security.

I stopped by the American ticketing desk to let them know I was leaving, but there was no one around. Another gentleman, a diminutive Arab of some sort, arrived right behind me, and volunteered that he was a regular American Airlines customer, he's seen all this before, and they were going to jerk us around and lie about their plans for a couple hours, then leave for Dallas well behind schedule, then strand us all at DFW when our connections had all left.

Well, not this crusty old fighter pilot. I told P what was going on, and she messaged I should just come home. I wasn't sure what that meant. Where's home? A sad comment on our current state of affairs.

By the time I returned to the office and scanned all of my exhibits for a remote deposition, we spoke on the phone and it became clear that "home" was Wyldswood, where Peg was back mowing. After a quick sweep through the condo, I was back on the road east toward "home". Somewhere around the Bloxham cutoff I received a message from American Airlines letting me know my flight from Dallas to Houston had been cancelled. Yep, I would've been sleeping on the terminal floor, and the deposition likely would've been cancelled. I probably would've just taken the day to drive a few exits up the road to see my folks, but might also have just flown back to Florida because I'm buried in work.

How much longer are we going to keep doing this, trying to take depositions and attend meetings in person? Air travel is now ridiculously unreliable--it's a national headline every holiday lately, with photos of bewildered travelers sleeping on the floors at DFW or O'Hare or Dulles. And the expense! This client is going to get a huge bill for all the messing around yesterday, none of which was really necessary because I'm pretty sure this Zoom deposition is going to work just fine. The day is coming when we don't fly all over the country for work, and can work pretty much wherever we want in a profession like mine. That won't be a bad thing.

A rare sight at Wyldswood--two vehicles out front this morning.

A lousy pic I know--I couldn't back up enough in the screen door to the porch to get them both.

Time to tee up this witness.