{"id":356,"date":"2007-08-27T18:19:25","date_gmt":"2007-08-28T01:19:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/?p=356"},"modified":"2007-09-12T13:29:21","modified_gmt":"2007-09-12T20:29:21","slug":"oz-report-part-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/?p=356","title":{"rendered":"Oz Report &#8211; Part 1 &#8211; Pre-Flight"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>I&#8217;m blogging this, rather incongruously, from an Aboriginal Cultural centre a little way south of Narooma in NSW. Here&#8217;s what I&#8217;ve prepared earlier while staying the hotel in Sydney for a few days:<\/p>\n<p>Pre-flight:<\/p>\n<p>Taxi 30 minutes late. But we are determined not to get stressed. Check in is a breeze, and security fine. But we discover at the gate that we need to be in a specific row(s) to use our car seat. This should have been handled at the checkin desk, but wasn&#8217;t, and leads to a trying conversation. Actually, it&#8217;s not a conversation, because &#8220;conversation&#8221; implies exchange of thought, and it&#8217;s clear to me that thought is only occurring on one side.<\/p>\n<p>The gate agent seems helpful, but is incapable of formulating any steps in the solution to the problem. &#8220;Yeah&#8230; you can&#8217;t use the car seat in that row&#8221; he offers, with a sorry-about-that note of finality. I look at him expectantly. Nothing more. &#8220;Could we move to a row where we can use the seat?&#8221; I suggest. He punches some keys. &#8220;You could use it in rows 41 or 56.&#8221; &#8220;Can we move to one of those rows?&#8221; More keys. We wait. &#8220;They&#8217;re taken.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>An idea occurs to him: unfortunately not the right idea. &#8220;Let me get the something-or-other manager.&#8221; Before I can reply, he&#8217;s off. Mini-Elbeno passes the time by twisting and writhing in my arms and yelling good-naturedly in my ear. The something-or-other manager returns and fixes me with a steely glare that suggests that I will use the car seat in an unapproved row over her dead body, or (more likely) over my habeas-corpus-free-zone incarcerated body. I ignore her and return my attention to the gate agent, who is apparently re-checking that the approved rows are still taken.<\/p>\n<p>I know he can solve this problem, so I ask, &#8220;Can we move to row 41?&#8221; But he is still unable to infer the final step of the solution, and merely notes, &#8220;It&#8217;s taken.&#8221; With an inward sigh I have known in many an interview, I suggest, &#8220;Perhaps we could swap seats with the people sitting in row 41?&#8221; The something-or-other manager says &#8220;You could absolutely do that.&#8221; Like I care about her opinion. She could sit down and start singing about gold for all I care.<\/p>\n<p>But with her &#8220;approval&#8221; the gate agent is finally getting up to speed. He pages 41B &amp; C who turn out to be a young couple who are happy to move to two otherwise identical seats in our current row. 41A has not yet checked in, and after a phone call she is bounced from her seat. The s-o-o manager disappears, frustrated by my calm persistence, and I walk down the jetway with family in tow. The flight attendant who helps me fix up mini-Elbeno&#8217;s seat has no idea of our recent tribulations, and in fact turns out not to care which row the seat&#8217;s in, or at least can offer no explanation why some rows are designated for seats. As in so many similar situations, once you&#8217;re inside the beehive, the bees allow you a lot more latitude. As we taxi on to the runway, I relax with cathartic thoughts of writing this blog post.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I&#8217;m blogging this, rather incongruously, from an Aboriginal Cultural centre a little way south of Narooma in NSW. Here&#8217;s what I&#8217;ve prepared earlier while staying the hotel in Sydney for a few days: Pre-flight: Taxi 30 minutes late. But we are determined not to get stressed. Check in is a&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-356","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-australia"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/356","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=356"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/356\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=356"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=356"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elbeno.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=356"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}