16 Hrs + 2997 Miles = “Rain City”

Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington, Photo by Mr. Blue

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

Nelson Mandela (1918 - ), 'A Long Walk to Freedom'

Shift of Fortune

“Fortune is not on the side of the faint-hearted.”
Sophocles (c.496 B.C.–406 B.C.)

A cold rain falls as I stand on the runway waiting to board a small regional jet back home. The sound of a 737 is deafening as it slowly creeps by in the darkness like a coal black leviathan. The flat expanse of the tarmac is glistening blue, green and red of the runway lights reflecting off the wet asphalt creating a surreal wonderland. The cool rain is a welcome relief from the hours spent in the stale overcrowded cramped terminal. Closing my eyes I tilt me head back allowing the rain to caress my forehead. It has been the only moment in the past two days where I have been able to relax and take a deep breath of the cool moist air. The scent of fall is in the air as the white dome of the capitol peers from behind the Washington Memorial in the distance. Where as the summer gone? In a brief flash the summer has left without even saying goodbye. Waiting begins all over again until summer returns an eternity from now.

Scanning the darkened figures standing in the rain I look for a familiar face but secretly not really wanting to find anyone I would be required to carry on a discussion with. The angry sullen faces in the gentle rain are upset with the two hour delay from gate 35. My old nemesis gate 35 has not disappointed me with its brutal ritual of chaos and routine bone numbing apathy, but I have conditioned my mind to ignore the tempting opportunity to struggle with its domination of the angry souls within its grasp. Silently I watch an overweight 30 year old with a shave bald head dressed completely in black like an Italian grandmother in mourning. It is oblivious that he is extremely proud of the carefully crafted persona he projects, but to me he appears to be a self-absorbed egocentric nobody. He is pacing back and forth screaming, shaking his fist, pointing at some invisible person he is talking to at the end of his cell phone which is the newest piece of technology available to only to those that find it important to change phones every couple of months. A large black electronic cockroach with a small red light hangs from his ear allowing him to fling both of his pudgy limbs in this public rant he is engaged in. There is little visual evidence to inform you that he not totally stark raving mad talking to the demons tormenting his soul. Watching his circular movements he reminds me of the insane street people in New York I remember as a child. I shake my head thinking that of all the places in the world this “tool” could be going, it just happens to be on my flight.

About the time I decided that I’ve wasted enough energy watching this idiot, I hear him argue with him imaginary friend stating that he has worked to hard for too long and everyone around him wasn’t doing their job. He emphatically closed the accusation with the worn old excuse “it’s not my job and I’m not going to do it myself”. Then he proceeded to asked for the dismissal of his coworkers. What a way to build a team by climbing over the bodies of coworkers to position yourself for a better seat in the cubical farm. There was a time when worked to hard for too long meant twenty years of dedicated service, not a couple months of waltzing in at nine and leaving at five. I’m not sure the world will survive the next generation of self-absorbed egos. The concept of entitlement without real investment is a cancer eating away the foundation of the nation. I’m staring at the pudgy poster boy for the end of the world as we know it. Needing to look away before I succumb to the urge to slap the living crap out of this snot nosed brat, I look at the white dome of the capitol again. Is this really what the founding fathers of this nation were hoping for?

I decide to refocus my attitude on something more positive and begin to reflect on the past two days of meetings and business calls. It has been a long dry spell for securing significant new work for the office for some unexplainable reason. It has eroded my enthusiasm as each failed interview piled on top of each other. Each debriefing providing little insight as to why we were not selected, other than we liked the color of the suit the other team wore or your proposal didn’t have little dividers like the others. I think this is the start of the 30 years olds gaining influence in the decision making process with no understanding of what is of real value in professional relationship.

Business always has a horizon which cannot be seen past, I call it the “cliff”. The cliff is the point past where businesses can no longer project future revenues. The cliff usually resides five to seven months into the future for most of my professional career, but during downturns the cliff slowly creeps closer and closer. At some point where you can begin to see over the edge of the cliff, the abyss of uncertainty becomes evident. Over the years I have come to understand that divine intervention appears to save you from the cliff about the time you are standing on the edge of your desk with a noose around your neck. The repeated salvation allows me to ignore the fear of being eternally stalked by the cliff. About the time I begin to consider what a new career might look like things dramatically change. This recent two day trip was that dramatic change completely reordering the future allowing me to postpone my new career search until sometime in the future.

I was able to arrange three meetings as a result of a recent speaking engagement in the area. The message of the lecture apparently struck an accord with the group, because we immediately received three requests for meetings to discuss proposals. The first meeting was with a county agency which wanted to include our expertise in a series of projects. Going into the meeting I assumed it was two projects which were already designed in which we would provide some construction oversight. We would be added as a specialty consultant under their on-call consultant agreement. As we talked in a small cramped conference room at the end of a dank basement hallway, the magnitude of the project was revealed. It’s not two projects but as many a twenty over the next five years. It’s not just construction oversight, but its full design services with an opportunity to assist on dozens of other projects which fall into our realm of expertise. It is the type of project which a business can forecast staff growth with by providing a predictable revenue stream over the course of five years.

A business negotiation is a lot like playing poker, there are times where the expression of surprise places you into an inferior position. It is imperative that you provide the owner the comfort of knowing that the conversation is completely ordinary and what they are proposing is a matter of standard operations. Executives will only hire your services if you can make them believe that you don’t need the work. It’s a subtle game of courtship, being too eager equates to desperation and desperation can be seen as a fatal disease detectable from miles away. The county’s schedule was impossibly constrained and not realistic, but we promised to deliver because there is no other acceptable answer. Anything is possible; no task is too great during the courtship. Over the years I have learned that schedules work themselves into a predictable rhythm that can seldom be hurried. Our job is to coach the client along the way as complexity of the process reveals the true implementation schedule. Leaving the musty office, we were giddy as schoolgirls envisioning the long potential business relationship.

Our next stop was a private foundation which wanted us to manage a 2.5 million dollar project on an existing facility. Our meeting with the executive director secured the commission which again was on an impossible schedule. As we concluded our meeting and were preparing to leave, we were informed of two additional phases of the work which we were in position to secure. Finally in passing the executive director indicated we should expect some calls from two or three local school districts which she had referred them to us. As it turns out she is also a board member of a state committee which advises school districts from around the metropolitan area. She had been so impressed with our work that she had been recommending us to anyone she came in contact with. If we were giddy after ending the first meeting we were outright ecstatic leaving the second meeting. I recall thinking to myself we are on a roll, we could to run the table.

On the way to the third meeting I fielded a phone call which turned out to be a significant university master plan project for an architect we work for on occasion. The world was becoming a blur as I attempted to write down the information I needed to get to the architect by the end of the day. The architect already had the project and was looking for someone to fill out the team. He informed us that they were exploring a very detailed process with the university as a trial for a much larger master plan process scheduled for the following year. Participating in this study would place us in position to maintain a valued role for future work. I no longer got off the phone and we arrived at our third meeting.

Brimming with confidence, we secured our security passes at the front desk and were led to a conference room on the fourth floor. The meeting was to be informal when I suggested we could stop by just to introduce ourselves. I assumed we would answer a couple of questions and head to the airport. As I turned the corner of the conference room I was surprised to find a dozen officials from various departments representing two separate counties waiting to talk to us. After a brief round of introductions which occurred so quickly that I was unable to write down all the names, they all jumped in with questions simultaneously. I tried to organize the responses of the highly divergent topics. The crowd was focused and energetic leading me to believe there was an underlying purpose to the barrage of inquires. It was oblivious by the questions that one county was further advanced in their thinking and had come to develop a consensus.

The manager of the meeting finally decided to structure the dialogue by explaining what they were up to. Each county had two projects each funded and they had never undertaken a project of this nature revealing their in house expertise was limited. They were interested in hiring us to design and manage all four projects. These projects would be considered test projects in each county. It was anticipated that three to five of these projects could be funded for the next five years under this program and if we were successful we could be in position to assist on all of them. Another long term relationship was being forged. Once again I managed not to reveal my surprise at the magnitude of their request. For the fourth time in a row we agreed to an impossible schedule, shook hands and departed for the airport.

How can months of work and travel yield so little and then in the course of a single 48 hours I secure the possibly years of contracts? What have I said differently that struck such an accord with this particular group? Is it pure the circumstance of being in the right place at the right time? I have a hard time isolating the origin of the shift of fortune from the daily chaos of the moment. The months of marketing meetings and strategic planning seem to have little relevance as the tide shifts. I am beginning to realize that the world is bipolar and is run by the pudgy poster boy for the end of the world that stood in front of me getting on the plane. We just opened the door when the need was right and waltzed into a gold mine. However, there is a single underlying fear caged in the back of my mind, the fear that I will at some point I will tell the world what I really think. Until then I will grit my teeth and smile at the bald headed tool sitting in front of me waiting for the cliff to return.

Life on the Vine

"In the hearts and minds of the people, the grapes of wrath were growing heavy for the vintage."

John Steinbeck (1902 - 1968)

The Grapes of Wrath

The sun peaks through the soft white clouds drifting in a crystal blue sky, highlighting the lush green slopes of the Blue Mountains providing a stunning backdrop to the morning. The rolling foothills frame the waving green fields of alfalfa hugging the bottomland. The views are expansive extending miles as white tail deer and wild turkey dot the foothills out of reach. Vines precisely trussed along thin galvanized wires secured to weathered fence posts dance over the slopes providing a delightful visual harmony.

Standing next to me is a tall thin man with a proud Marlboro jaw and piercing eyes the color of a clear blue sky. He is dressed in jeans and a simple western style shirt with pearl snaps as he leans on the hood of a big new Ford pickup truck. Facing the morning sun the salt of age glitters in his black pepper hair as he shades his eyes looking over the land that has been in his family for generations. His love of the land is apparent as he describes the history of every small feature of the field below while his other hand gently points out the landscape as if caressing the nude back of a beautiful woman.

According to the historical society, “the Walla Walla Valley was one of the first areas between the Rockies and Cascades to be permanently settled. Lewis and Clark traveled through the county in 1805 and 1806, making friends with the Walla Walla Indians on their way to the Pacific Ocean. Fur traders carved out early settlements and trading posts and the early 1800's. Missionaries Marcus and Narcissa Whitman settled here in 1836”.

“With the lure of nearby gold in 1860, Walla Walla quickly became a commercial, banking and manufacturing center, and soon became the largest city in Washington Territory. The City of Walla Walla was incorporated in 1862. After the gold rush ended, farming anchored the community. It remains vital to the current economy. As a group, Walla Walla County's farms are the oldest in the state. More than half of the County's 47 centennial farms were established before 1875”.

Years ago, many Native American tribes inhabited the region, including the Walla Walla, Nez Perce, Cayuse and Umatilla. Walla Walla is a Native American name that means "many waters" or "small, rapid streams." Standing on the slopes of the rolling hills, his strong baritone voice softens as he describes how the emerging wine industry has changed the value of land which has risen tenfold in less than a decade. Even this dramatic increase in land value still represents about one tenth the cost per acre compared to Napa Valley, so the development pressure will remain unabated for years. This increase in value in the family property has created a tax inheritance burden which can not be carried by his children and grandchildren, so after considerable soul searching the family has decided to develop the property into environmentally sensitive single family estates. The property is surrounded on all sides by some of the finest vineyards of the state and quite possibly the nation.

Climbing back into the truck for a view from the far ridge, he begins to tell me about how he began growing grapes for the local wine industry almost 17 years ago. Providing a stunning backdrop, the Blue Mountains frame the valley that is home to more than 60 wineries and as many vineyards, all of whom work hand in hand to produce world class wines of exceptional character. Excellent examples of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah have earned the Walla Walla Valley national and international acclaim in recent years. Other grape varieties such as Chardonnay, Semillon, Cabernet Franc and Sangiovese also produce wines of subtlety, balance, and complexity. In the fertile ground between the vineyards are massive orchards growing hundreds of acres of cherries, apples and plums as well as onions and potatoes. We pass a large round promontory called Mount Fuji which is a single orchard of a hundred acres of Fuji apples most of which are exported to Japan.

Passing weathered basalt outcroppings as we climb a bumpy gravel road the conversation quiets giving me the perfect opportunity to indulge my lifelong fascination with wine and grapes. Speaking with great passion, he patiently answers my continuous stream of questions. Selecting the right location for growing grapes is a combination of art and science. The grapes are located on the slopes when they received an optimum balance of exposure to the sun and shelter from the heat. The vineyards occupy slopes to cool the grapes in the evening when cool air flows down from the hilltops. The bottomland valley stores heat during the hot summer nights providing the grapes little relief, so it is rare to see any vines on flat bottomland. Most of the vineyards are laid out so that the rows run north and south providing foliage maximum exposure to the sun during each day. Each vineyard has a yen garden like appearance as if sculpted by a giant rake.

Walla Walla has developed a soft sustainable viticulture practice called “Vinea”. Attempting to establish Walla Walla as a leader in sustainable viticulture, the growers and vintners formed The Winegrowers’ Sustainable Trust which is a voluntary group that have embraced a covenant with environmental, economic and social sustainability concurrent with their production of grapes and wine. The Trust defines sustainable viticulture as “ecologically sound, economically viable, and socially supportive. Because it is more a philosophical approach to viticulture than a set of farming practices, the specific practices vary depending on the specific environmental and social issues important to an appellation.”

The Trust describes how Vinea’s sustainable viticulture practices compare to organic and biodynamic farming practices. “Viticulture can be “sustainable” without being “organic” or “biodynamic”. Also, some organic or biodynamic operations may not be sustainable. Organic farming certifies that the grower has excluded the use of any synthetic agricultural chemicals. Biodynamic farming combines the tenants of organic farming with practices that are intended to influence the metaphysical aspects of the farm (such as increasing vital life force), or to adapt the farm to natural rhythms (such as planting seeds during certain lunar phases) as well. However, approaches to management of healthy soils can be similar between the different farming systems.”

Unlike Napa Valley these vineyards are not cultivated accommodating a cover crop that builds soil fertility and biology, but also provides habitat for beneficial insects which control pest populations. An important consideration in grape production is frost protection with many of the vineyards being equipped with large fans and misting systems. Growers will spray the grapes with water when temperature approach freezing generates heat when the water turns to ice protecting from grape from damage. In “Vinea” leaving a cover crop provides more surface area for the water to cling to enhancing frost protection. Many of the vineyards include the tradition of planting a single rose bush at the end of the row of vines. Historically the rose was planted as an early indicator of frost damage and before the advent of modern technology a grower would know that actions to protect the vineyard from frost were necessary if the rose petals started suffering.

Some of the wineries grow their own grapes but most purchase each season’s grapes from growers. Wineries will contract with the growers to produce grapes on long term leases from a specific acreage of in a vineyard. Quality-oriented wineries now negotiate grape purchase contracts based on acres, rather than sugar level and tonnage. This allows the winemaker, rather than the vineyard owner, to decide how much fruit the vines will carry and when the grapes are ready to begin harvesting. The average cost for grapes in the valley at about $7500 per acre and the yields can range from two to twelve tons per acre. For quality wines from the Walla Walla valley the yield per acre will be managed at between one and three tons.

Vineyards vary in the spacing between the rows and between the individual vines. Depending upon the age and variety, some are more productive per vine than others, some produce larger clusters of fruit and some yield more juice per pound of fruit. Wine makers and their facilities also vary in the amount of juice they are willing or able to squeeze from the grapes. In rough averages when considering grape production one pound of grapes equal about 4.5 clusters with between 40 and 60 grapes per cluster. In other words it takes 9000 clusters to equal a ton of grapes. One ton of grapes will produce 60 cases or 720 bottles of wine. So a single bottle requires between 440 and 660 grapes. On average in the Walla Walla valley one acre of vineyard produces from 2250 to 4500 bottles of wine.

The vines are a very aggressive crop that must be prepared early each year and merit special attention. Each stage requires meticulous work, and traditional skills primarily focused on manual labor. The first element for controlling production to come: winter pruning, followed by trimming that suppresses excess shoots in the spring. Each different grape variety undergoes a maturity test which defines optimum maturity according to the quality of wine desired.

After the roots and stalk have developed, the untended vine would grow wildly, spending most of its energy on spreading its shoots and tendrils. If left to nature, a single vine could cover as much as an acre of ground, with the roots developing wherever the branches touched earth. In ancient times, this was allowed, a practice called layering. Normal practice of the time was to prop up the vines to prevent the fruit from rotting or rodents from eating it. The Romans even planted elms in the vineyards, simply to support the vines. These ancient viticulturists came to realize that, instead of allowing the vines to grow outward in all directions, training the vines in rows with canes pointing upward produced better, more even-ripening grapes.

Jim LaMar an expert in wine production notes, “in 1860, Dr. Jules Guyot published the first of three treatises describing regional traditional vinicultural and viticultural practices which documented the cultivation practices of vineyards which had gone unwritten for the previous five thousand years. It wasn't until the recommendations of Guyot, however, and the massive replanting due to phylloxera that vineyards typically had an orderly, row by row appearance”.

In describing the care of the vines he writes, “it was discovered that better-quality fruit will grow on vines that are pruned back to distribute the bearing wood evenly over the vine. So, in the winter months, when the leaves have dropped and the vines are empty of sap, they are pruned back almost to the main stem. Pruning is an art of delicate balance. Pruning also facilitates cultivation, disease control and harvesting, when the vines are trained to grow in a particular shape. It is a skill that requires experience and judgment which is only done by hand. There are only two basic pruning methods: cane-pruning and spur-pruning, also known as head-pruning. Spur-pruned (head-pruned) vines are usually found in older vineyards. Spurs are the canes (branches) trimmed back to only a pair of buds. Each bud will become a shoot which grows to a cane that bears the crop. In the winter after the harvest, the top cane is removed and the bottom cane trimmed back to a two-bud spur. Spurs are often distributed around the head of the vine, like spokes around a wheel. The top is left open for sun-exposure and this method often leaves the vine in somewhat of a "goblet" shape. These vineyards can only be hand-harvested. Some head-pruned vines are converted after a time to grow on trellis wires. Head pruning is used only in warm growing regions, because it encourages massive vegetation that slows ripening. It also makes harvesting more difficult.

In the cane-pruning method, from one to four, one-year-old canes, each with six to fourteen fruit buds, are trained along trellis wires. This is also referred to as "cordon" (French for "arm") pruning, since the vine looks as if it is stretching out it arms. Because one-year-old canes must be used to bear the fruit each year, the cane-pruners therefore must train the current fruiting canes and at the same time consider which spurs to train for next season's fruiting canes. In France, a single cane with a single spur is known as Guyot simple pruning and two canes and spurs as the Double Guyot, because Dr. Guyot was so influential in promoting these methods. Modern trellising methods vary by variety, geography, geology, harvesting methods and winemaking style! Two, three or four-wire, vertical, lateral, cordon and other configurations of trellis may exist in neighboring vineyards. There are stakes made of wood, metal and those combining the two materials. The different patterns primarily affect exposure to sun and wind and accessibility of fruit for hand or machine harvesting.”


Vines respond to early pruning and the reduction of leaf foliage by producing flower sets. Grapevines produce fruit only from one-year-old wood, called a cane; thus, long or short canes should be retained during pruning. Although 60 or more buds can easily be left on a grapevine, a crop of 3 tons per acre cannot be expected unless the vine has sufficient vigor to support such a fruit load. To determine the potential fruit capacity of a vine at pruning time, growers can use the concept of balanced pruning. The principle is valid for all grapes in general, but varies in magnitude from one cultivar to another. Growers control the grape yield and quality per acre by systematically dropping fruit or selectively pruning the grape clusters whereby concentrating the flavor and intensity into fewer grapes. Depending on climate, temperature and rainfall the grower may drop fruit up to three times before harvesting. The key to flavor and intensity is stressing the vine so that it works hard and struggles. This requires precise control of soil moisture levels through automated irrigation systems. The worst thing that can happen to a crop of grapes is to endure a wet rainy period just before harvest, which will wash away or dilute the intense flavors of the maturing grape. Varieties differ in the amount of heat required to mature their fruit. One-hundred to 120 days after flowering, the grapes should be ripe. The harvest may start mid-August in warm areas, to late-September in the coolest ones.

An important indicator of grape maturity is the sugar level. Sugar (more exactly sucrose) is measured in the United States using the Brix scale, which uses specific gravity to determine the percentage of sugar, by weight. A 25 °Brix solution has 25 grams of sucrose sugar per 100 grams of liquid. Or, to put it another way, there are 25 grams of sucrose sugar and 75 grams of water in the 100 grams of solution. In Walla Walla wine grapes are normally harvested between 21° and 25° Brix. From the 1960s through the 1980s, wineries often paid growers based on sugar content and the tonnage. Fruit maturity is not, however a simple matter of sugar content. Acid content is every bit as important to quality and flavor and even more so to aroma constituents. Grapes will respire acid (especially malic acid) as they ripen and this loss is greater in warmer vineyard locations.

As grapes ripen, sugar, color and pH increase as total acidity decreases. For the highest quality wine, grapes need to develop aroma and taste characteristics that only result from physiological maturity and sugar-acid balance. Some signs of this maturity are the browning of the grape seeds (pips) and lignation, which is the browning and drying of the berry stems. But by far the most important indicator of maturity is the taste of the grapes.

The sun had started to sneak behind the Blue Mountains staining the sky with pastel hues when I finally realized I have been peppering my guide with questions for almost eight hours. In an understanding and mentoring manner he endured my barrage of inquires because we were two kindred spirits sharing a deep love of the land with all its abundance and wonder. He had recognized in me, like himself a primal need to be grounded to the land, to breathe in every summer breeze, to dig my hands deep in the soil just to smell its rich perfume, to find purpose and sustenance in caring for the abundance of the land. In the process we have walked between the rows of vines examining the clusters in great detail as if they were masterpieces of art hung in a gallery while local laborers set about the first dropping of fruit. We passed each new winery in an old barn or convert shed while he explained the type of wine being produced, the production volume in cases and more other often than not with a humble voice and cheerful glee in his eye he would whisper that he supplied those grapes.

Rounding a small hill the town is visible as my guide makes the suggestion that we meet his wife in town for dinner at one of the local restaurants. Embarrassed he qualifies his invitation with a comment that the town needs more quality dining establishments. Arriving at the small restaurant we are escorted to a small table outside on the terrace facing the Blue Mountains where his wife is already seated waiting for us. Quickly we polish off the bottle of chilled Chenin Blanc which his wife has been drinking. I’ve never been able to identify all the subtle flavors and aromas, although my thirst and the long day gave the wine a delightful sweet flavor of honeysuckle. You will never confuse me with a wine snob, because I drink wine not as status symbol, but because I enjoy it so immensely. Unfortunately the only flaw in my thinking is the fact that the better the wine is the more I like it.

In a short few minutes the Chenin Blanc was gone. My guide immediately reaches for the wine list and asked me what I would like to drink with dinner. The question is absurd to me because the answer is so obvious. “What I want to taste some of the grapes you have grown.” Slightly embarrassed again he admits that the wine list contains over twenty vintages that he was produced grapes for. His wife offers her thoughts and sits back in her seat smiling knowing the answer. After scanning the list for a moment he calls the waiter over and tells me “I think you might like this one.”

The dinner conversation is pleasant and comfortable while the waiter brings the bottle back and opens it pouring the claret nectar into each of our glasses. Without pretense I swirl the wine around in the glass to open the bouquet slightly and take a sip. In order to savor all the richness I close my eyes. There is no need to break the silence of the moment as a smile clings to my face. No word can better express my contentment than sitting in silence in the presence of kindred spirits with the fading light coloring the mountains in the distance soft purple hues. I pick up my camera a take a picture of the sunset and recall the old saying “If only you could capture time in a bottle”, at least for the moment I believe they did.

“Wine is bottled poetry.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

Watching Dinosaurs Die

Each day I’m amazed at the airline industry’s failure to respect the basic foundation of their survival, the business passenger. Ingrained in the obsolete practice of price gouging the business traveler, airlines continue to believe this practice does not impact costumer loyalty. This practice is elevated to outright extortion when the airline has a dominate hub position in an airport; some of the best examples are United to Denver, Delta to Cincinnati, Continental to Newark. My last trip has proven the dinosaurs are so out of touch with the frequent business traveler that the species has no hope of survival.

After hours of scheduling I was able to get to a remote location (Pasco, Wa.) for just under one thousand dollars. While outrageously priced, it is a type of location you expect to pay a premium for on short notice, unlike the common fares of $1200 to $1500 for direct flights into the heart of the airline empires. The one thousand dollar fare got me the center seat in the last row of the plane, where you receive the honor of smelling the ass of every passenger who decides to use the restroom, most of which have such poor dietary habits they should seek medical attention immediately. Understand that this is not a low cost carrier and it should be good business policy to provide a person who is willing to submit to highway robbery the best seat possible.

Often while waiting for the first leg of the flight to load it is possible on occasion to obtain an exit row seat that affords some additional leg room. Approaching the gate agent I was informed that it is possible to acquire an exit row seat for an additional cost. Dumbfounded I couldn’t believe what I heard and asked him again. Speaking to me as if I was an idiot he repeated “We provide exit row seating for the upgrade cost of $67”. Indignant I replied “My thousand dollar ticket fare did not include the privilege of requesting an exit row?” Once provoked I couldn’t stop “I’m currently paying this airline a rate of $15.32 a minute to sit in this shit seat and you have the nerve to ask me if I’m willing to pay an additional $1.00 a minute to sit in a 3” wider shit seat? No sir I’ll think I’ll save my $67 and spend it on postage writing letters to Southwest Airlines asking them to move a flight to Denver to bust this little party you got going on here.” Needless to say this delayed my access to the plane and I was able to board the flight after the farm animals.

Strolling down the aisle I couldn’t help but notice than not one of the exit row seats was occupied. I guess United took the concept of keeping the exit row aisles free of debris to a new level, economic debris. When did safety of the passengers take second place to profit? Am I to believe that a flight attendant that is unwilling to help a 90 year old woman place her luggage in the over head, is going to leap over the passenger in an emergency to open the exit row door? I’m not sure I can hold my breath that long under water. It’s more likely I’m going to hear “I’m sorry you can’t exit the plane through that exit row door unless you pay an additional $10.50 and we can only accept exact change.”

It began me thinking about the future opportunities for the airline industry to rape me of another couple of dollars. What about putting a meter on the overhead bin? You may park your carry on luggage here for $0.50 per seven minutes. What about charging for toilet paper in the restroom? That two ounce bag of pretzels got to cost a fortune. Better yet they could charge you for the volume of air that comes out of the overhead nozzle. We all could take up a collection to pay for the tug driver to push us off the gate. I’m sorry this seat reclines only 2% for each dollar inserted. Maybe the pilot could take his hat off as we pass him exiting the plane and we could drop dollar tips in it. “Sorry sir that landing was a little rough. I’m only tipping 10% instead of my usual %15. Doctors get away with it, what if you got a bill in the mail for the X-ray of your luggage. Maybe they should add $25 bonus to the price of the ticket if they really got you there on schedule. When are they going to stop?

I finally arrive at my shit seat and settle in at 6:30 am for the 60 minute flight to Denver, when the flight attendant announces that the pilot has allowed passengers to listen to flight control tower on channel nine of the armrest. I assume that this should be interesting and pull the headset from the seat back pocket. The dialogue is very technical and professional as the plane is pushed from the gate into the alley. We hear the control tower authorize the push from the gate. There are a number of other flights in approach or requesting departures. Our flight is sitting in the alley without the engines running for ten minutes before the pilot turns on the PA system. “We are ready to go but we need some paperwork. As soon as we get the paperwork we’ll be on our way.”

The plane sits about 35 minutes before I hear on channel nine the control tower call our flight and ask “United did you get your problem fixed?” A female gate agent’s voice replies “No sir, the problem just got worst and we are pushing the aircraft back to the gate.” As the plane begins to roll back to the gate the pilot calls the ground crew. “Why didn’t maintenance check the oil?” Did I really hear that we have been sitting on the alley for the past 40 minutes because someone didn’t check the oil in the plane? I don’t run an airline but shouldn’t that be on the “A” list somewhere? Be sure to check the oil! Be sure the plane’s tires are not flat! Be sure the plane has a full tank of gas! Be sure the plane’s windshield is clean! In my mind it’s a pretty short list. Any hung-over teenage gas jockey working at Quick Trip knows to check the oil.

I starting thinking, “Oh great one of the flight attendants is going to march back here to my shit seat and demand that I pay for the oil.” Nervously I begin to wonder what a can of aircraft oil is going to cost these days. Ten dollars for a bag of pretzels, my god, oil is going to cost me at least $50-$60 per can. What if I don’t have enough money? Will they make me clean the restroom? It could really use a cleaning. In stunned disbelief I decide to check my ticket. Yes this is United Airlines not Laurel & Hardy Airlines. What has the world come to?

It’s hard to watch a great industry giant so out of touch with their customer. Like witnessing obsolete obese dinosaurs suffocate under weight of their own mass of flesh, you begin to realize that little can be done to help this species from becoming extinct. The best advice is to steer away from these teetering beasts out of fear that they crush you as they fall. And god knows someone from the front office is going to try to get you to pay for the clean up.