The third part of my Trains, Planes and Automobiles (and Airport Service Buses) is upon us. I think it’s important to state up front that I don’t condescend to jobs I consider “beneath” me— there is no job beneath me, I honestly mean that. I admire hard work and am in awe of people who work full time jobs and then some. As a freelancer who lives a pretty much a golden lifestyle where I can work where and when I want I like the idea of jumping in and doing another job— even for a little while.
One early Spring evening Number Two son and I were driving back from my purchase of a nice little James Bond style gun and it being dinner time and we were in a hurry, options were limited and we were far enough from home that we just wanted something quick so we stopped at a Burger King. As we walked into the shop it was an absolute mess. Now, most Burger Kings are absolute messes, that’s in the mission statement, but this one looked like they just had six birthday parties and let the kids run wild. We soon found out why— there was one guy working the front and one guy working the back. Two guys running this whole place. They were frazzled beyond the point of any return. We ordered our food and waited and waited. Another couple was there before us and they were very understanding of his situation. While we waited Number Two son and I grabbed nearby brooms and mops and we cleaned up the dining room and wiped down the tables. Not because we are saintly visitors but because it was the right thing to do and our other option was to just stand there and watch these people work themselves to death. This kid was doing his best, he was handling the drive thru with one hand, taking our orders with another and unjamming the shake machine with his foot. If I needed an assistant I’d hire this kid in a heartbeat.
We finished cleaning up the place and the kid had tears in his eyes as he thanked us. Since then we’ve half joked that we should do this once a month— go to a place and then just work there for free just to help out and ride off into the sunset like The Lone Ranger and Tonto.
Anyway, back to the Airport Limo job, night three my training was done and I was on my own. I got my passenger manifest and took a seat in the driver lounge area of Flynn’s Truck Stop sipping a coffee while I mapped out pickup locations using the road atlas I bought for this gig. I refused the Company windbreaker because it smelled like someone else had lived in it and it was an XXL and I’m a M/L, opting instead to wear my leather bomber jacket which would, I assumed, get me into the spirit of using the WWII bomber pilot lingo on the bus radio to dispatch— as I would find out shortly, it would not.
I boarded and headed for my first pickup. I felt bad for this person, they were heading out on a trip and being the first passenger meant they were along for the journey as I picked up the other seven passengers on my list, all of whom were scattered all over Central Massachusetts. After about two hours the bus was fully loaded and I headed into Logan. I tried my best to use the Radio lingo but I just had a hard time taking it seriously— I felt really stupid saying things like “Roger that” and “over and out”, but I tried.
As we headed into Cambridge, about 10 mins or so from the airport a light rain started falling and once again the windows started fogging up, only this time everyone in the bus sat closer to me and they fogged completely up.
“You should turn on your defrosters.” The man who had taken a seat right behind me and designated himself as co-pilot chimed in.
“They are on. They’ve been on the whole trip.” The defrosters were worse than the bus I trained in. I think waving my hands would have done more to defrost them than anything the truck’s motor was doing. The passengers seemed oblivious to our plight because they were talking louder and laughing as I tried to keep us from careening off the Mass Pike and to certain death.
I pulled up to the first terminal, announced which one it was and then checked the list and got out to get the bags of the passengers who were getting off at this one.
I opened the back and three passengers came with me. A woman who was probably in her forties and had a face that looked like she had smelled something bad in her early twenties and never forgot it was first.
“Which one is yours?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” She shot back.
“There are fifteen bags here, no I didn’t take the time to study luggage.”
“It’s the black one.” She said without pointing.
“They’re all black.”
She huffed and stepped up and took her bag, which was right there on the edge of the bus.
The other two passengers weren’t as polite. Tip total; $0.
I dropped off the rest of the passengers and that total didn’t change any and then circled back around and started at the first terminal for pickups. I knew if this gig was going to produce any money I’d have to work on my service and people skills.
I had a plan.
Continued….