"Bittersweet Symphony" progress
Josh R.
Here's a preview:
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A gate agent relieves me of my bags the moment I get to
the Cross Country counter. I haven't been noticing the various chimes
in my earpiece since I got off the bus, but when I take out my pid I'm
conscious of the little symphony. "Good morning," I tell another
agent, this one a slender woman smartly-dressed in a khaki uniform.
She has one of those blousy ties at her neck. "One for Los Angeles."
"Your itinerary?" I move it out of the received queue and, after
scanning the location tag at the desk, send it to her. "Okay. Mr.
Weiss. Welcome to Cross Country Airlines, and thank you for choosing
us for your flight today."
"You're welcome." I give her a small smile, which she doesn't return.
My earpiece chimes and I look down at my pid. She points to it.
"Please review the rules and regulations for air travel as dictated by
FASA, and also the Cross Country Airlines passenger--"
I don't even look. I don't care. I just scroll to the bottom and
mark the document read, then send it back to her. "I'm not new at
this," I tell her, trying to sound conspiratorial.
"Mr. Weiss," she says, "if you choose not to read the entire
document, you must go on record as having waived your right to be
informed of FASA regulations and Cross Country Airlines' passenger
rules--"
I cut her off again. "Just give me the waiver…" I look for her name
tag, remembering too late that no one employed at an airport wears
them anymore; too easy to complain about customer service when it's
impossible to tell who didn't do the job right. I shrug. "Send it.
I'll sign it."
The woman gives me a hard look, but sends the file to my pid. I mark
it read without really reading it, just like before, and send it back.
She types on her computer for about fifteen seconds, her telltale
shifting from blue to yellow to red, then back to blue. My earpiece
chimes again and I see in my received queue that she's cleared me to
move to the security checkpoint. Another employee of the airline puts
printed tags on each of my bags, then carries them to the conveyor
belt behind the desk. "Thank you for flying Cross Country Airlines,"
my unnamed friend tells me, sounding vacant. "Have a pleasant
flight."
********
--
"Tell the truth. But live a life so improbable
that it is not to be believed." -Aleister Crowley