Christmas Gets Stuck in Concourse C
written by: Jim Bartlett
Christmas Eve. Christ. Mas. Eve.
What was he thinking?
Craig knew from the beginning he should have said NO when he was invited to the office’s annual Christmas breakfast. “Just a quick little thing,” they said. “A thank you for a great year. Lots of hard work.”
And it was true. While most of the company had transitioned to AI, automation, or robotics, his group, though down to a core few, was still composed of real humans. And they’d had a banner year.
So he showed up. Ate some fruit. Drank some juice. Mingled.
And just like that, the time got away from him.
So now, here he stands, staring down a forever line of fellow holiday travelers that stretches, sometimes three or four wide, all the way to the TSA checkpoint. Which from here seems to be on the far side of the moon.
Against his better judgment, he takes a peek at his watch. If he were one to use foul language, he’d surely be cursing himself at this moment, as his flight was scheduled to start boarding about five minutes ago.
Needing a distraction, he lets his eyes wander up and down the adjacent corridor. A virtual river of folks flows by, young and old, tall and short, dressed for the season or dressed to the hilt. Their arms are filled with bags or purses or holiday gifts, their faces, most likely as his, are filled with worry or stress. That is, for those whose faces aren’t buried in their phones. Behind them, wheelies or carts, or even kids are in tow as they rush to find their gate and hop on that plane for their long trip to Christmas, wherever that might be.
Or maybe Hanukkah. He scratches his head trying to think when that starts this year.
Christmas. Christmas Day. Beth, his coworker, who’s Jewish, had reminded him just the other day.
With the line refusing to move, he remains lost in thought until a sight, just on the other side of the bustling crowd, catches his eye. A young woman, bent down on one knee next to one of those strollers that more so resembles a buggy requiring a horse than a baby carriage, is yanking and tugging (and most likely, at least under her breath, doing all the cussing he is not) on something stuck in the wheel or frame on her side. A baby, wrapped snuggly in a multi-colored striped blanket, who looks to be maybe one or so – geesh, could be two or three, what does he know about babies? – sits within, her face contorted from a sobbing cry, while a young boy wearing a Santa hat stands to her side, a handful of her blouse firmly clenched in his hand as he jerks on her shoulder with every bit of the intensity she’s using on the carriage. Her long black hair, clearly showing no regard for her predicament, has cascaded down across one eye and swings back and forth with her movements, as if to taunt her with only an occasional clear view of the problem.
He shifts his gaze back to his line, and then down at his watch. When he looks again at the woman, he realizes she, much like himself, must be getting desperate, as tears have begun to flow from those soft, deep, dark eyes.
And no one from the river of people, busy, lost, in a hurry, or just captivated by their phones, seems willing to stop to lend a hand.
He takes another wistful glance at the lengthy line, and realizes – something he’s known but not cared to admit for some time – that his wait will most likely be in vain, his plane long lost to the sky by the time he makes it to the security checkpoint. With that, he steps out, and, toting his wheelie, cautiously crosses the surging stream of humanity, making his way over to where she struggles.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks in a voice slightly raised to compensate for the crying baby.
The little boy, his eyes going wide, releases his death grip on the woman’s blouse and jumps behind her, warily peeking over the same shoulder he had just been fiercely tugging.
Tucking the errant strand of hair behind her ear, she looks up. Her chocolate eyes shimmer with tears and her glowing brown cheeks, like the baby’s, are puffed. “It’s stuck,” she says with a gasp of breath. Or maybe of frustration. She points to a strap attached to a small blue and green daypack wedged in the folding mechanism of the stroller. There’s a giant T-Rex plastered across the pack’s backside, his mouth wide open showing a mountain range of sharp foreboding teeth, as if ready to eat anyone standing too close.
Or maybe, annoying baby carriages.
Craig winks at the little boy. “I like your hat. Are you on your way to help Santa with Christmas?”
There’s a nod, albeit slight, and he ducks deeper behind the woman, leaving only the bent-over top of the hat still visible.
“Do you mind if I have a peek?” he asks her.
“Please. Please do.”
She sits back, crossing her legs under a long, flowing woolen skirt. Something Grams might have worn back in her “Woodstock” days.
He smiles. Actually, something she still wears to this day.
Along with the beads and peace necklace and…
He puts aside the humorous thoughts – for now – and kneels down for a better look at the carriage. The strap is clearly stuck right where the frame assembly would normally fold, and it’s obvious all the tugging in the world is only going to result in further frustration.
Not that this woman has any left to give.
He pushes his wheelie aside, and rests on his knees. With a slight cock of his head for a better angle, he notices that the purple strap is actually wedged in between the metal frame and the side of the baby’s seat. Just to the back of the seat, there are a couple of snap locks that seem to hold it in place. He’s most certainly nothing close to being an expert, but he’s pretty sure this unit is one of those “convertibles” that can be reset as the child ages. The seat itself, by releasing the two locks, can actually be removed.
It’s worth a try. Reaching in, he presses hard on the two latches.
Snap. Snap.
The metallic pops quiet the baby, providing a welcome interlude. Craig stands, folds up the handles for the seat, and slides it out of the carriage, the wide-eyed baby seemingly pleased with her new vantage of the world.
The mischievous strap drops innocently to the floor, eliciting a gasp from the woman, and she jumps to her feet, arms raised as if she’s just won the World Series.
“Yes! Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She rushes over and pulls him into a hug, but backs off just as quickly, putting a hand to her face. “Oh, so sorry.”
“Merry Christmas,” Craig says awkwardly. He then sets the seat back in its slot and resets the latches. “All good to go.”
“I… I… I just don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t happened along.” But then her eyes fall upon his wheelie. “OH, no, we didn’t cause you to miss your plane, did we? Tell me everything is okay for you. It is, isn’t it?”
“No worries. I’ll be just fine. From what I hear, most of the flights are on hold while Santa’s sleigh passes over.”
She laughs and her eyes brighten, which makes Craig feel every bit as warm as does a sip of Gram’s hot chocolate.
“Besides, I couldn’t stand by and watch a mom who was already struggling with her two kids in a crazy busy airport on Christmas Eve pick up a really expensive stroller and toss it in the trash. Now that would be a waste of a great dinosaur backpack.”
She starts to laugh again, but stops, her face going flush. “Oh, no, no. They’re not my kids. These two are my niece and nephew. Ellie is the littlest one”– she points to the carriage – “she’s just eighteen months, and this is Gabriel”– her point switches to the little boy –“who’s four. I’ve had them at my house since just after Halloween.” She tussles Gabriel’s hair, then continues. “My sister and her husband are having some, ah, ‘marital’ troubles, so I volunteered to look after them while those two worked things out.”
“Wow, that’s really nice.” He looks down at the kids, both now keeping their wide eyes peeled on him. “And brave. Really brave.”
This causes her to return to that laugh, a laugh that’s really growing on him. “No, not so much. It’s all good.” Her eyes drop to the stroller and the little backpack sitting just behind. “Well, mostly all good,” she says with a funny little twist of her lips. “We’re actually on our way to see Cecilia and Matt – that’s my sister and her husband. They’ve been talking with their priest for a while now and it sounds like things are finally starting to settle down for them, so I thought, ‘Hey, let’s make a surprise Christmas visit.’” She passes a gaze between Ellie and Gabriel, then looks back up to Craig. “I’ve been trying my best – I mean we even Facetime every other day – but the kids really miss their mom and dad. And I know my sister and her husband have really been missing the kids.” She then puts a finger to her lips. “And, besides, Cecilia makes some wicked Christmas burritos.”
“Wow, that’s wonderful. Really wonderful. And burritos to boot! It sounds like everyone is about to have a lovely and loving Christmas.”
She cocks her head and takes a step closer to him. “I just realized I didn’t even ask you where you’re going.”
“California.”
Her eyes drift as if looking for a window, of which there are none nearby. Then, closing them, she sings softly in a magical voice, “You know, I just noticed this morning… all the leaves are brown…”
“Well, that’s funny, because I noticed… the skies are gray,” he finishes in his best Mamas and Papas’ voice.
“You know the song!”
“Of course!”
“My nana sings it all the time. She’s from there – LA – but I’ve never been to California. Is it as nice as they say?”
“Every bit and then some.” He smiles, but, as much as he’s enjoying sharing the moment with this breathtaking young woman, he knows he needs to book a new flight. With a heavy sigh, he lets his head drop. “I guess if I’m going to get there, I’d better be on my way. You are a great aunt. Your sister is very lucky. But more than anything, I’ve really enjoyed meeting you all.”
He turns for his wheelie, though deep inside he’s pretty sure that on this especially busy Christmas Eve, his chances of finding an alternate flight are somewhere between slim and none. With that in mind, he decides he’s in no particular hurry as he spins toward the thick, rushing crowd ready to leave. But before he can take a single step, the woman grabs his arm.
“Nina. My name is Nina. Well, actually Christina, but my nana always called me Nina. Nana, Nina, well, is that confusing.” Her voice shakes with a tiny bit of nervous vibrato, and before he can say anything, she pulls her hand back and buries her face in it. Somewhere under there, Craig notices she’s blushing.
Recovering, she eases out a long breath and sets her hand back on his arm. “I really want to say how much I”—she waves her other hand toward the kids—“WE, appreciate what you did. Thank you.”
He sets his hand atop hers – it’s soft and warm, and for a moment he thinks she’s trying to interlink their fingers. “I’m Craig. Craig Pullman. I can honestly tell you, Nina, the pleasure was all mine.” He starts to let go, but both seem reluctant. It’s only when Gabriel races up and tries to join do they finally part.
“Merry Christmas, Nina.” He looks down at the little boy. “And Merry Christmas to you and your sister.”
Nina brushes his arm one last time, then sighs. “Have a Merry California Christmas, Craig Pullman.”
With a newfound smile and bounce in his step, Craig weaves his way through the crowd and back to the ticket counters. Surprisingly, there are only a couple of travelers here – one who’s using an automated kiosk, while the other works with an agent whose fingers are flying across the computer’s keys. Yet, as he takes a step toward that end of the counter, a rotund gentleman, his uniform, quite obviously stretched by his girth, pops out from seemingly nowhere and opens another computer terminal just to the side of where Craig stands. With a mop of white hair that’s desperately trying to escape from under his blue airline cap, little round gold framed glasses sitting snugly on the tip of his nose, bright red cheeks, and a thick white beard, something about the man rings familiar, but Craig can’t quite put it all together.
A big, infectious, happy smile, spreads across his face and he waves Craig over.
“Missed your plane, did you?”
“Ah, yeah. How did you know?”
“Just a guess,” he says with a wink. “So, where are we heading?”
“I’m trying to get to San Francisco,” Craig says, handing him the boarding pass. “Well, Monterrey, actually. But I usually fly into San Francisco and drive down from there. Unfortunately, or, maybe fortunately, things happened and I missed my flight.”
“Oh, my. You don’t say. Some things are just meant to be, eh?” He looks down at Craig’s pass. “Doing a little California dreamin’, are we?”
But before Craig can answer, the man, a twinkle in his eye, turns to look out the side window, one Craig realizes he hadn’t noticed before. A thick black cloud blots out the North Carolina sky, and fat raindrops batter against the glass as if trying to slip in, catch the next flight to a better latitude.
“My, my,” the agent practically sings, “… on such a winter’s day.”
Craig can’t help but chuckle. California Dreamin’? What a coincidence! “I guess I am doing a bit of California dreaming,” he replies.
The agent pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose a bit and stares deeply into the computer. As he taps at the keys, Craig catches little bits of blue lettering dancing in the glass of the man’s spectacles, a magical reflection from the monitor’s screen.
“Well, looky here,” he says, his voice quite giddy. “If you don’t mind a bit of a long layover – three hours to be exact – I can route you through Dallas and you’ll be there this evening.”
Craig smiles. “That sounds wonderful. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, as my Grams always says.”
“Smart woman, that Grams.” He hits a key and as the printer begins to grind, he gives his beard a quick tug. “You know, I have a good feeling you’re going to enjoy that little Dallas interlude.”
Craig, not quite sure what that means, stands quiet, the short silence broken when the printer spits out the boarding passes.
“Here you go, Mr. Pullman. Looks like your plane leaves in about thirty minutes from Gate 6, so you’d better scoot!”
“Thanks… ah…” Craig scans the man’s uniform, looking for and finally finding the little brass nametag dangling from his lapel. “… Nick.”
“You’re very welcome, Craig. Safe travels.”
As Craig turns and starts to head for the corridor, Nick calls out one more time.
“And please wish Esther a very Merry Christmas for me.”
Craig takes two more steps before “Esther” sinks in. That’s his Grams’ name. He stops and spins around, lost as to how Nick could know such a thing. But there’s no one at the counter where he just stood, much less a computer. And more bewildering, the spot once occupied by the large wintery window is now nothing more than a boring paneled wall.
He looks to his hand, making sure he really, truly has his boarding passes. Reassured, at least with that part, he takes off at a run, his thoughts now on that gigantic TSA line. Did Nick say thirty minutes? He picks up his pace, his wheelie chasing close behind.
But when he rounds the corner, the line, once stretching to what seemed the parking structure outside, is now non-existent, and he’s free to walk straight to the waiting TSA agent.
Still, by the time he’s made it through security and found his gate, boarding is well underway. Catching his breath, he takes his place at the back of the short line, and is soon stepping on the plane.
“Welcome, Mr. Pullman.” The cheery flight attendant wears a green and red garland necklace, a Santa hat, and a smile every bit as broad as Nick’s.
He shakes his head at the remembrance. There was a Nick, right?
Shaking it off, he smiles back and meets her gaze. She’s short for an attendant, and though her hair is neatly tied back, a strand has sagged a bit on his side, and her ear – one that appears to have a pointed tip – pokes through.
“Thanks. And Merry Christmas.”
“And a Merry Christmas to you. You’re just up the aisle, Row 14,” she says without even looking at his pass. “Oh, you have to have some cookies.” She pulls a handful of sugar cookies, all cut in the shape of a Christmas tree and perfectly trimmed with green and red icing, from a ribbon-wrapped cookie jar to the side and slips them into his palm. “You’ll want a couple extras for your seatmates.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks.”
Feeling a sense of relief – despite it all, he’s finally boarded and on his way to see Grams – he ambles down the aisle, stopping several times as travelers slip their luggage into the overhead, or slide into their seats. But he’s drawn to a complete stop when a tiny head peeks out into the aisle just ahead. The puffy white ball at the end of the little one’s hat dangles in his face, but even with that distraction, Craig recognizes Gabriel. Nina, seated just to his side, with little Ellie in her lap, beams a smile when she spots him.
“I thought you were going home to California,” she says as he slides his own wheelie into the overhead and takes the seat just to the front of her.
“Oh, no, no. As much as I love it, California’s not home. I live right here in Charlotte. But I make sure to spend Christmas with my Grams every year.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Does your family all meet there?”
He sighs. “No, just us two left now. But we make a racket like the house was full.”
She laughs, but it carries a melancholy overtone. “Wow, she must be really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Indeed, she is. And I most certainly am looking forward to seeing her. I haven’t made it back there since, geesh, early summer. Work…” He shakes his head then then twists in his seat, letting his gaze wander over the top toward Gabriel, whose eyes seem attached to some sort of iPad. Smiling, he turns back to Nina, offering the cookies. “The attendant, who caught me as nice, but strange, said I should pass these along to my ‘seatmates.’ I think she knew the kids were down here.”
“Oh, how sweet!”
Craig takes a bite of his. “Wow, and they’re really good.” He chews a minute, then catches her eye again. “So, your sister lives in the Dallas area?”
She shakes her head. “My sister and her husband, they live in Phoenix. We were supposed to take a direct flight, but when I got to the gate, this really nice agent told me that the plane had some mechanical issues. So, he helped me find another flight. Oh my gosh, he was so funny, you should have seen him.” As she thinks back, her eyes twinkle with delight, and her voice, when she continues, is almost a laugh. “He must eat too many tamales, as he was about to pop out of his uniform. And he had the biggest, whitest beard I’ve ever seen. And these little gold glasses, right here on his nose.” When she puts a finger to the tip of her nose, Craig can feel his face warm with a smile.
“He took us over to the counter and printed up some boarding passes and here we are!”
She tussles Gabriel’s hair and gives him a cookie, which pulls him from his hypnotic trance. His eyes brighten upon seeing the treat, and the iPad is quickly forgotten.
Something about the little tussle gives Craig an odd feeling of déjà vu, but before he can gather his thoughts, Nina snaps her finger, as if remembering one more thing.
“The only bummer…” she stops, covering her mouth as a giggle erupts. “Wow, ‘bummer’. My boss, whose hair is just as white as the agent’s, always says that. Bummer. I wonder if it’s catchy?” she says, beaming a smile.
“Maybe. It’s one of Gram’s favorite words. That, and she’s always saying, ‘Far out, Dude.’”
Nina lets go another giggle. “How funny! Anyway, we have like a three-hour layover at Dallas, but I’ll probably just get the kids something to eat.”
Three-hour layover? For Craig, it’s déjà vu all over again. Then it hits him.
Nick.
“Wait. A big round guy? With a white beard? And a nest of white hair? Little glasses?”
“YES. Do you see him?”
“I think so. I’m pretty sure he was the same agent that rerouted my flights. What was weird was that he knew my Grams’ name.” He leans back, taking another bite of the delicious cookie. “And, you know, it seems like, I don’t know, a real ‘coincidence’ he assigned me this seat… right in front of you.” He chews a minute, his mind twirling in thought. “You know, he made quite a deal over the three-hour layover in Dallas. Saying I might just enjoy it. And now I find out it’s the same as yours.” He gives his head a shake. “Did you see his name tag? Do you know who he was?”
Gabriel, who’s been keyed into their conversation since setting down the iPad, smiles and sits up in the chair.
“Santa! He was Santa Claus!” he says matter-of-factly, a mouth full of cookie.
Nina and Craig’s eyes meet.
“Do… do… do you think Santa was setting us up?” she asks.
Craig takes in a deep breath. Not just at the suggestion, but more so the glow off Nina’s face as she seems to revel in the possibility herself.
He smiles for what seems the umpteenth time since he’s met Nina. “I dunno, but I really hope so.” He takes in another deep breath, trying to ease his nervousness. “Would you mind if I joined you for ‘something to eat’ during our layover?”
She leans forward and puts that soft, warm hand on his. “I’d love it.” She looks to Gabriel and then Ellie. “We’d love it. Merry Christmas, Craig Pullman.”
- Christmas Gets Stuck in Concourse C - December 15, 2024
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- The Grand Adventure - April 14, 2024
