MAROONED

Marooned.




Ever read stories about being marooned on land? Well, here is a tale of such an adventure, which at the time is happening in a country known to the world as the United States, where all dreams could come true if you have a job, money and no scruples. It is also the land that is beleaguered by its own people, regulated to an extreme, where the inhabitants put six, (spelled 6) locks on their doors to frustrate B&E artists. Three locked and three open, so when they try to open all six, they will lock the open three. It is a very safe country, I was told, one just has to be very careful and if possible, carry a big gun. With the holiday season approaching, people have their Christmas presents sniffed by especially trained dogs and members of the bomb squad open the packages. At the airport of a large city on the Pacific coast are more armed personal in uniform, under cover and very stern looking, than travelers, but it is safe. One is allowed to breathe, not too deep, and in a certain way, that will not offend the authorities and does not sound threatening or condescending. During a briefing I overheard a person in charge of some uniformed security guards instructing them how to handle people, and it was very informative.

“You have to be firm with the people and authoritative. Be in charge and don’t apologize. They have to know and follow the rules or they will want to do things that will create problems.”

Surprisingly, he did not display his Swastika.

Standing outside of the terminal, I witnessed a very efficient dealing with an empty cardboard box, about a foot x foot x foot in size. A security guy looked at it, circled it, kicked it, bend over it, (to sniff perhaps) straightened up, readjusted his uniform, kicked the box again, and then talked into his lapel. Within a minute other uniformed men showed up, surrounded the box and ordered it firmly to open up and surrender peacefully. One especially courageous man, about 6’ 3” (190cm) took the initiative and opened the box and removed a very mean looking piece of cardboard. I expected him to slap handcuffs on it but instead he put it back into the box and arrested the whole box for trespassing, illegal parking and loitering. The vagrant was then herded into a nearby-parked van and taken into custody. The whole procedure did not take more than ten minutes, an astonishing performance under the circumstances.

The box must have been abandoned there by some frustrated patron since there are no facilities to put luggage into temporary storage while waiting for a connecting flight, possibly due to the fact of terrorists targeting innocent wardrobes and are intent to blow up sleeping bags, underwear and other assorted items for not converting to some true religion.

I also met a few other remarkable people, wearing a uniform, humane, friendly, helpful and understanding, completely out of line with the norm and in mentioning them, I want to honor them by putting their name in here. Erick Mencose, Supervisor-HSSE for Servisair, a very friendly and generous man I had the pleasure to meet, Anthony Doyen, open-minded and a real humanitarian, serving to save lives and I hope to meet again somewhere. Another gentleman who’s names I only have as Russell and a young woman, Edith with a personality to match her beauty and Dan Freeberg, a volunteer VIP in the Tom Braley terminal.

These people made the difference in being marooned in an airport, anxiously waiting for the other kinds of authorities to decide my worthiness to return to my vessel in an island group called French Polynesia that has been legally taken over by the power of the gun from the native population.

While I’m awaiting the decision, I push a cart with my sparse belongings from my temporary sleeping seats to the bathroom, the coffee shop, and the seats along the walls, where I’m able to plug my damaged computer into an electric outlet to be able to write this story. The daily trips Down Town to retrieve email messages from my friends and find out another disappointing piece of news, has turned into a pilgrimage, lugging around 25 pounds each packs, is wearing down the heartiest and when strangers nod in greeting, one knows, a certain familiarity has been established. The next I know is, they will call me by name and will ask me for a drink or to lend them money. Being in this situation is rough but I have seen a lot of people in LA, much worst than me, out on the street and it blows my mind how in a country with so much wealth can exist a poverty like this. It seems the wealthy have forgotten where their wealth come from. Nobody can work that hard to have millions without screwing someone.

The new PC computer I purchased in Canada and the Mac must have been subjected to some rough handling also because the screen is broken and no longer useable. Filing a claim with Air Canada is a hope to get the computers fixed along with the luggage suitcase. The stickers “FRAGILE” seem to invite some people to test the resistance of the items in question and thus maintain a low level of unemployment in the industry. I believe it is called “Creative Job Maintenance”. Of course, it is a very annoying fact when the owners of those broken items complain and want compensation, but hey, job security is a desire most people can’t ignore. This computer was to work as a navigational instrument and has not even been installed with the charts and drivers needed, it was a virgin machine, and it is a shame to see it going down this road. Even the suitcase’ interior plastic liner has been shattered and I wonder what elephant must have stepped on it. Very much to my astonishment, the bottle of maple syrup is still in one piece although it has been to the side where the shattered plastic liner was; Tough Canadian. Now I’m hoping the airline will replace the whole thing and the question is; will they do it?