by Mary Wakefield Buxton –
NAPLES, Fla. — When one hits the amazing age of 80, there are some realities that one faces. One can no longer survive two 12 hours plus days driving a car from Urbanna to southwest Florida.
That is if one ever wants to walk again in any fashion other than a duck.
A reasonable soul, which I strive to be, tries the train but, being a fast learner when it comes to suffering, one moves quickly on to other means of travel.
Airplanes. I have a long record of disliking air travel, however, one eventually runs out of options and I daresay flying beats horse and buggy, no matter how difficult a day in the sky may be.
So, I planned to fly this year to Florida. At least it’s only one day of agony and not two days like in a car or a day and overnight on a train.
Newport News airport was wonderful. We were well cared for by the personnel who treated us kindly, we were given passes that let security know we were seniors so spared having to remove shoes or take off coats. I was not frisked, nor did rough hands grapple through lingerie in my baggage presumably because I looked like somebody’s dear grandmother, but the lawyer I travel with had a good going over since, like lawyers, he has a suspicious look, which necessitated “the full enchilada,” including removing his belt. It was soon discovered he had a forbidden tube of toothpaste over three ounces in his luggage, a dangerous condiment, but he was given a pass “this one time” and allowed to keep it.
Probably because he was traveling with a dear grandmother.
The American Eagle flight to Philadelphia was pleasant, despite a stewardess that never smiled. It’s no longer fun or even glamorous these days to hustle passengers from airport to airport and I felt some sympathy. Serving the public is never what one might call “a good time” but I dare say it’s a better approach to do so with a smile.
If we were treated with respect and tenderness in Newport News, Philadelphia was a different story. “Yankees!” Chip muttered, “are so rude!” and so forth. I grabbed hold of the rude Virginian and hurried him away before someone pulled out a “shiv” and displayed an even ruder behavior between his ribs.
Still, it was shocking. The airport personnel in Philly never smiled, indeed, they looked as if they hated their jobs, if not the entire public, and perhaps even life itself. A sad sight for the city once known as the “City of Brotherly Love.”
A quick and pleasant American Airlines airbus flight to Naples, Fla., awaited us with a pleasant flight crew and in just three hours we were able to retrieve our baggage and present ourselves to the taxi stand at Fort Myers.
That’s when we met Joey. He was dressed in a tuxedo with tails and top hat and a red bow tie and he moved like a leprechaun. He bowed low, whisked out a step-up stool from his van and helped us aboard and bound for Naples.
“I’m Italian,” he said in a heavy New York accent, “my grandfather brought the family over from Sicily in the ’40s and we settled in New York City.” He went on to describe how he was brought up and educated on the streets of New York toughened up fast by having to survive with Irish, Jewish, Latino and African American gangs. The entire family eventually moved to Naples, where they all had individual jobs. “My sister taught school for 30 years in Florida,” he added proudly.
“My father was a New York City cop, now passed away,” he told us and the anniversary of his death with such piety I wondered if he had been killed on the job and he took his mother into his home because he did not want her to live alone. “I married a Cuban girl when I was young but realized she didn’t love me and we parted. Since then, I have run into many wild and crazy women but managed to survive each relationship,” he added.
“I’m a Trump man and my family members are all hard workers, and we love America and have no use for those who don’t appreciate this great country!” Joey continued and he was starting a new business with his brother running taxi service back and forth from the airport. He drove the van three days a week and his brother covered the other days. As we left his van and he carried our heavy luggage to our elevator, he handed us his card. The card promised “Not one guy, but two guys” van service.
The dreaded day of air travel was over. We had arrived.
(To be continued.)
©2022
