January 28, 2006
The microphones blared loud and clear throughout the plane, “We have overbooked this flight, and the airline has authorized us to offer three passengers $250 each to give up their seat. Just push the flight attendant call button to accept.”
Seated in Row 21B, I learned over to my husband, 21A, and said, “I am almost tempted to do that; whereupon, he turned whitish-green and looked like he would become ill.
“Now, Kathryn (what he calls me when I am in trouble or have committed some grave offense), you cannot do that,” he said. “We have been gone 10 days, there is a blizzard at home, and the kids have to start to school. We just need to get back.”
Meanwhile, inside my head a voice was saying, “Push the button.”
Three people did indeed push their buttons, grabbed their carry-ons and exited the plane.
I was jealous.
Seconds later, the flight attendant made another announcement, “It turns out that this flight is seriously overbooked, and we need a total of 10 people to give up their seats. We will now offer $450 per seat. Press your call button.”
I leaned across the aisle where my two teenage sons were sitting and commented that we should all take the vouchers and grab a later flight home.
“Just think of $450 times 4,” I said.
They, of course, agreed, but Dad immediately put his foot down and squashed the plan.
“No,” he said, “They need to get home. School is starting in a day, and I have to get back to work. I’ve been gone from the office too long now as it is.”
Two more people pushed their buttons.
Once again, much to my delight and my husband’s chagrin, a new announcement rang out from the overhead speakers.
“We need five more people to give up their seats. The airline is in a serious dilemma today, as five more people must get on this flight. We apologize for overbooking; therefore, we will now offer $650 per seat.”
The cabin was abuzz with talk. No one had ever heard of such a thing. The flight attendants confirmed that this generous amount was rarely offered. They told some of us, seated in the back, that the maximum this airline allows is $750 per seat.
Now, I was really getting into the adventure.
I made an announcement myself, “If it hits $750, I am out of here. I will see the rest of you at home whenever!”
Those seated all around us were now into the discussion.
Kids were yelling, “Push the button.”
My husband was cringing and sinking deeper in his seat.
One more broadcast resounded from the plane’s ceiling, “Thank you so much. We have our five people now who accepted the $650 voucher. We appreciate your patience. The pilot assures us that the flight will be on its way very shortly.”
A collective sad sigh resonated through the cabin because now I had a cheering section, all wishing I had “pushed the button”. Everyone was disappointed for me; well, not exactly everyone.
Then, to our complete surprise, the public address system blasted out this message, “One of the passengers who accepted the $650 voucher cannot go. He has learned that he must get back to his office today. Therefore, we are once again offering that seat.”
No one, including me, pushed their button.
Everyone in the rear of the plane was staring at me wondering what I was going to do.
I decided to do the sensible thing and stay on the plane.
Then, it was over in a flash.
The flight attendant begged one more time, “We are forced to offer the maximum allowed, $750, for one seat…”
Before she could finish her sentence, I pushed my button.
Everyone cheered.
My poor husband looked like he might faint.
I grabbed my things and off I went, no time for good-byes. I assured them I would get home somehow and not to worry.
Secretly, I was thinking about checking into a hotel, taking a warm bath, and reading a good book.
“Time to chill out,” I thought.
After all I was in Florida, and it was January.
Not to be though.
As soon as I exited, I was directed to a help desk where kind agents told me that if I hurried I could make a non-stop flight leaving in 45 minutes. They would call the gate and alert the powers that be.
I decided to run for it.
Made the flight and arrived at my home destination before my original, one-stop flight even hit the tarmac.
I thought it would be great fun to meet my family’s flight and shock them.
Once again, I ran.
Had just enough time to collect myself before they walked down the exit ramp.
There I was, a sight to behold, waving my $750 vouchers.
One person on the plane (I was now recognized by all aboard) asked, “How did you do that? This is not possible, what is this—some kind of magic or something?”
I replied, “I poofed myself here” and offered no explanation.
People were stunned and speechless as they walked by me.
My family was overjoyed, and I was $750 richer.
Ah, the magic of flying-- nonstop, that is!
