A guest post from inshin. Does it get better when we look back ?? http://inshin.wordpress.com/
I was reminded recently of a time when I worked in the aircraft industry. It truly is one of the most amazing industries, still retaining hints of the pioneering explorations that provide us with wonderful stories full of adventure. People who work with aircraft tend not to be 'workers' but much more in the vein of those born with a vocation as we see in medicine and teaching. They are often obsessed with flight, even when they are the ones who don't fly but work to keep the big metal birds in the air. It was in this area that I found myself in. A collection of highly skilled hard working people who could patch-up a twenty year old plane so it could make it to it's next stop, and next patch.
But my story is not about one of those occasions when a creaking plane struggled through harsh terrain, bringing much needed supplies to desperate people. It was an incident which brought me to Miami, where our crew were inspecting, signing off and flying a 'new' twenty year old plane back to Europe. My job, however, was to visit some aircraft suppliers and keep up our contacts to support the ongoing maintenance work. Now in general I tended not to have a problem meeting new people in business and discussing whatever issues needed to be covered. However, this was my first time in the US, and being the wrong side of 25, I wasn't exactly the most experienced, as things were to turn out.
I headed off, suited it up with my (half empty) brief case. Met in the hotel car park by the main meet of the day, I was driven to another part of Miami. We had a pleasant mandatory tour of the facility and then discussed buying selling prices and loads of other things that I tried to indicate I was knowledgeable on. Overall that went quite well and we had lunch.
My problems started to arise when the visit ended. Unfortunately this suppler wasn't able to drop me back to the hotel and I needed a taxi (cab). They duly arranged this and I sat into the back of one of those great big American cars I love. My appreciation for these marvelous vehicles was a considerable distraction as the views around this part of Miami all seemed pretty industrial. But gradually I noticed we weren't moving and realised that we were in thick traffic going nowhere.
This is probably where the inexperience revealed itself. I suddenly thought of the issue of money. Glancing towards the meter while groping for my dollars, it dawned on me that it was very likely I didn't have enough to pay for the taxi. I glanced at my meager funds and quickly calculated that if the taxi didn't perform like starring in a Bruce Willis movie soon, I wouldn't have enough. Fortunately I correctly worked out that the meter in an American taxi showed the actual charge due, unlike at home where there was always a manic routine the driver would perform at the end of the trip with the meter which resulted in almost a double charge materialising.
I looked around at my surroundings and roughly calculated that I felt we were not too far from my hotel. In a grand gesture I implied to the driver that the traffic was so bad I'd get out here and walk the rest of the way. He looked somewhat shocked but agreed to take the few dollars I had on me and I exited the car.
Striding confidently in what I thought was the correct destination I headed off suited up, brief case in hand and, shortly afterwards, sweating profusely in the humid and blinding sun that so often attracts people to this part of the world. It wasn't long before the jacket had to come off and I carried it over my arm, balancing the now ridiculous looking brief case in the other.
I wasn't quite sure why I was getting frequent head light flashes and car horns blasting as eventually the traffic, considerably faster than earlier, tore past me walking alongside what I suspect would have been called a freeway. Anyway it was bigger than any road I had ever seen with about six lanes on each side. Fortunately my sense of direction has always tended to be good (except when walking late at night in Wicklow after a few). In the distance I was sure I saw the shape of the hotel. Between me and there, it seemed that the road dipped under a fly-over and the path I had been walking seemed to stop. At this time, there was also a bus stop, and, as you would at home, I approached the lady sitting there to confirm my suspicions of the hotel's location.
Her reaction to my question, accompanied by the continual blaring of horns as cars past, began to make me wonder was I missing something. When I asked her if the building the far side of the flyover was my hotel and could I get to it, a look of fear crossed her face and she continued to stare straight ahead of her with no comment. As I waited for a more reasonable response, I glanced around looking at a slowly moving car passing by with a few youths hanging out of the window calling out various things I didn't quite catch.
Finally I realised that my walk, dress and general demeanor probably resembled something out of a movie like Falling Down with Michael Douglas. I decided at this stage the best thing would be to proceed through the end of the path and under the flyover, not quite sure what I would encounter in the somewhat darker stretch before me.
Clearly the flyover represented another six lane by two freeway as it seemed to take a long time to emerge the far side. It was long enough to read a series of some very artistic graffiti as my pace quickened with the sheltered and cooler air the flyover provided. Once out the far side I could see the hotel car park and knew I was near safety.
I strolled on into reception and met some of my colleagues, recounting the story of my recent adventure. The response was not quite what I expected. One of the more veteran members of the team almost went into a rage when he realised what I had done. Seemingly I had traversed one of the most dangerous stretches of the Miami airfield area and that the probable reason for surviving the route and not being shot was because those who might typically act in such a territorial way had also seen the film Falling Down and may have suspected that the useless brief case contained a base ball bat or even an Uzi.
As I sat contemplating the incident, elements of the event did seem to become clearer. The taxi driver was shocked at the location I decided to leave his care, the flashing lights and horns, at least initially, seemed to be a warning to get out of the area for my own safety, and the lady at the bus stop was probably fingering a Magnum in her shopping bag in an attempt to move into self defence mode. As for the car that slowly drove by, well they obviously were worried about the brief case.
Whilst it may have been the saving component on the day, the brief case was parked and never produced again.
