Just Five Minutes

Jason stood up from his cubicle desk--five minutes to five. He was slipping on his jacket in preparation to walk out the door of his office and off to the airport right at five o’clock. He noticed his supervisor watching, so he remained mindful of his phone and would be ready should any call come to his desk before the call center closed at five o’clock. Time dragged and at two minutes to five, Jason’s phone lit up. The center was still open and he had to take the call. He sat down at his desk and pressed the flashing button, “Netronix Support, Jason speaking,” he intoned.

“I just received my new Netronix multifunction router and hub, but I can’t figure out how to get it working.” 

“Oh Lord,” thought Jason, “why me?”

The clock was ticking and Jason had a 7:00 flight from the airport, which was a good forty minutes from his office. The call dragged on; the caller was an idiot. He hadn’t even opened the User’s Quick Start Guide, but Jason was dedicated as well as good at his job in technical support for Netronix.  He patiently walked the caller through the setup of the new router and get him up and running in twenty minutes. With a satisfied customer dealt with, he ended the call jumped up from his desk, and headed for the door.  His supervisor, who stayed until all staff left, was standing at his office door, smiled, complimented Jason on his good work and wished him a good weekend. With a brief “thank you,” Jason was headed to his car.

Jason was going to Atlanta for what he hoped would be a magical weekend and possibly the beginning of a new life and a new love. He had met Mark about six weeks earlier on an online dating site. They exchanged messages for a few days and then one day, Mark called him. They talked for hours. After that, they spoke by phone almost every evening. They had so much in common, so many shared values and interests. Mark seemed kind and sensitive, educated and thought deeply about many things.  He had a good sense of humor and Jason knew that he’d be fun to be with. So, after a few weeks, they planned on their first meeting. It would be in Atlanta and Mark had planned a full weekend of dinners, tours, meetings with a few of Mark’s friends. Jason was more than ecstatic. He was falling love, with a man whom he’d never met, but everything seemed right.

The roadway around his office was busy. A traffic light at the intersection had chosen now to turn into a four-way flashing red stop light.  Traffic was backed up for blocks.  By 5:45, he’d made it to the expressway toward the airport, but at that time of day on a Friday, traffic was crawling. By the time he reached the airport, it was 6:15 and he still had to find a parking place in the airport garage. Of course, the garage was hopeless. Every aisle he drove down was full, but finally, after going all the way to the roof and starting back down, he saw a car ahead with backup lights on; an opening. As soon as the departing car cleared the spot, Jason was in. He grabbed his jacket, carry-on bag and dashed for the terminal. It was almost 6:30. His flight must be boarding by now.  Maybe it would be delayed; so many flights were these days.  “If only for five minutes,” he thought.

Walking quickly through the ticketing hall, he turned down the concourse toward his departing flight, noticing on the information screen that Delta flight 608 was “On Time” and “Boarding.” Shit!  Then he saw it: the TSA line was backed up. All he could do was get in line and hope for the best. The line moved relatively quickly, but when he got to the checkpoint and placed his shoes, belt, jacket and carryon on the conveyor, he was stopped as he went through the metal detector. He had left keys in his pocket and had to put them in a dish for the conveyor and go back through the metal detector. He got through this time with no problem, but as he stood waiting for his carryon bag to come off the x-ray line, a TSA agent took his bag and motioned Jason to accompany him to a side table.  “What now?” he thought. He watched, helplessly, as the agent rifled through his few weekend items and extracted a metal corkscrew from the side pocket of the bag. He’d forgotten that the corkscrew also contained a small knife blade for cutting the foil caps on wine bottles. 

“Sorry,” the agent said. “This can’t be taken onboard. Do you want to have it mailed to someone or have it destroyed?”

Oh, pitch the damn thing,” said Jason. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

And with that, the agent confiscated the corkscrew, closed Jason’s bag and pushed it across the table for him.  He grabbed it and ran.  It was now 6:58.

Reaching the departure gate, at the far end of the concourse, Jason saw it was empty, with only an agent standing at the desk typing on the computer and another agent coming out of the jet bridge and closing the door.  He ran up to the agent at the door, boarding pass in hand and asked to be allowed to board the flight.

“I’m sorry,” said the agent. “This flight is now closed and cleared for departure.  There’s another flight on the tarmac waiting to pull in.  I cannot hold up the departure. Besides, this flight was overbooked and we had to move passengers to other flights.  Check with my colleague at the desk. She can help you rebook.”

“There’s a 9:00 flight to Atlanta that still has a few seats; I can put you on that.” The agent said, still typing on her computer. 

“Anything,” said Jason.  I just need to get there as soon as possible. At that, the agent looked up, over the rim of her glasses and smiled.

“OK, here is you new boarding pass,” she said. “We should be boarding in about an hour. Have a wonderful weekend.”

Jason took the boarding pass and walked back down the concourse to the small bar. He needed a drink, but first he needed to call Mark.  He ordered a glass of wine, took it over to a side table by the windows. It was beginning to rain, and he could see lightning flashes in the clouds. “Rough night. I hope it won’t delay my flight,” he thought. “If only I had been here five minutes earlier.”