Sometimes it's the things you DON'T say that make a relationship work, you know?
C.S. is at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown this week. I swear, his job has the best perks!
When he flies, he tends to provide a running commentary to me via phone and text updates from the cab, the gate, the taxiway, and so on. On this trip, I heard about how he had to get the ticket at the last minute and the plane was full to the brim. He was expecting a middle seat and is totally spoiled by flying first class (courtesy of his high-mileage airline status). So he willingly took the airline's offer to take a later flight, plus compensation.
I heard all about how he was going to get preferred seating on the next flight. I heard all about how they also paid him $400 to get bumped onto the next flight, and he would arrive only 3 hours later than originally scheduled.
So far, so good. He was, how do you say it? Gloating.
Then I heard all about how the second flight's departure time was pushed back for an hour. And for another hour. And for another hour after that. I also heard all about how he was never going to fly this particular airline again.
Gloating rapidly turned into whining, and I got the play-by-play.
He finally arrived, long after dark, to navigate through unfamiliar territory from Albany to Cooperstown. I heard all about how bad the directions were. I heard all about how there were no road signs, so he couldn't even tell where he was.
I got onto Mapquest and tried to help. I could find where he was, based on the city he'd just passed, but it was hard to tell how to navigate toward Cooperstown, with no signs, no streetlights, and no landmarks. By then the whining had turned into cursing.
I heard all about how he was getting low on gas, and how there weren't any gas stations, and how there wasn't even any other traffic on the roads he was on, while spending 3 hours making a drive that was supposed to take 90 minutes. There wasn't even a town with a hotel he could stop at. And he hadn't had any dinner, either.
Oh, it was a bad evening. And all I really wanted to say was, "That $400 ain't looking so good, huh?"
I didn't say it, though, not until the next day. Then I really rubbed it in.
C.S. was a bit sheepish about his travel meltdown, and was even able to laugh about the journey from hell. Now things are looking substantially better. The B&B served a great breakfast. Cooperstown is beautiful and has a good bookstore. And the Hall of Fame is everything that a baseball fan could want, especially when you get to go into the basement with the chief archivist and they have boxes and boxes of memorabilia from the gods of the sport. Babe Ruth's favorite bat? Check. Game-used jerseys from Lou Gehrig and Christy Mathewson? Check. All the good stuff is there.
And he still has the $400, too.