Free, "Space Available" air travel is one of the few remaining perks for retired US military personnel and their spouses. However, as the British say, it is a dodgy business. In 1999, Carol-Jean and I got to Europe with no problems, even though we were a foursome with our two dependent teenagers (Emily and Lindsey). When we tried to get home a few weeks later...no spaces available. We ended the trip flying one way on a commercial jet, significant out-of-pocket expenses when multiplied by four travelers. This time it was just CJ and me, ambling into the smallish MAC Passenger Terminal at McConnell AF Base outside Wichita, Kansas. But even with a smaller Shepherd Party, the chances of being seated looked pretty grim. The place was crowded with active duty service members and their families, all of whom rightly have priority over a retiree and his wife. As the roster took shape, a miracle occurred--CJ and I were the last two names called. We checked our big bags and took our carry on luggage into the standby lounge. I called Bill, my thirty-something son, and asked him to call our Unity-UK friends to alert them that we were inside the gate and enroute. Our USA cell phones had not the range to reach England, so Bill "rang them up" on the land line.
Kimerie Mapletoft--a candidate for Unity sainthood in my book--was planning to pick us up the next morning, and it is quite a long drive from Silent Unity-UK HQ at Maidenhead (west of London) to RAF Mildenhall (northeast of London). We sat back and waited to board the aircraft.
Then a tense-looking nineteen-year-old in uniform came into the standby lounge and hurried straight for CJ and me. With great apologies he said there were, in fact, not enough spaces for everyone on the aircraft. They could take 20 Space-A passengers; Carol-Jean & I were number 20 & 21 on the list. There was no seat for both of us. As a dependent spouse of a retiree, CJ couldn't fly unaccompanied, i.e., without the retired military member. So our choices were to send me alone on the AF jet or both of us could withdraw from the roster and try again...in a week, when the next flight was scheduled.
I asked for twenty minutes to decide, plus access to the Internet. The young airman graciously took us to his computer and got me online, but the verdict from his supervisor was to tell them what we're doing in ten minutes. CJ and I talked it over quickly. Since there are classes for me to teach later this week, we decided I had to fly today. I agreed, but only with the stipulation that we find her a commercial seat so she could join me quickly as possible. We have been planning this trip for months. She rearranged her work schedule to accompany me to England for the month. It wouldn't be any fun without her... (Well, okay. It wouldn't be AS MUCH fun without her.)
In a few minutes Internet surfing I found the lowest airfare available on short notice--still a cold shower compared with the warm glow of free passage--and we booked her to England arriving on Thursday. The advantage was she could fly from Kansas City in a reasonably comfortable commercial jet. The complications were all logistical (e.g., our car won't be waiting for us in Wichita when we hop back home). It also dented our vacation budget, but we agreed it was the best alternative to her not going at all--unthinkable to me. We retrieved her big bag, kissed good-by, and CJ drove alone back to Lee's Summit.
But the drama wasn't over yet. I'm sitting in the Air Force blue shuttle bus with the rest of the Space-A passengers who made the cut, when that same tense nineteen year old boarded the vehicle, clipboard in hand, to make another announcement.
The passenger list was still one too many. They had only 19 seats for Space-A's, not 20. I was dead last on the list, so mine was the non-seat he was announcing. I reminded him that I'd just bought a non-refundable one-way ticket to Great Britain for my wife, who was heading up the Kansas Turnpike as we spoke. He said it was the aircraft commander's call, and the officers were firm on 19 not 20. He said wait a minute and rushed away.
My stomach sank, and I felt a chill of fear. Then I remembered this thing I'd studied sometime in my shadowy youth...what was it called..? Unity. Yes. That's it, I think. I remembered the symbol of Unity for a long time was the winged globe. That means we can fly anywhere, do anything, overcome any apparent obstacle. And I also remembered that God is the Source of my supply. Everybody and everything else works for the Lord (Lord = Law = principles) of the heavens and the earths (One Presence/One Power).
So, I became calm and quiet. I closed my eyes and realized that all was in Divine Order, that no matter what happened opportunities for good and growth would present themselves to everyone involved. When I began this treatment my panic level was at the cold-chills-through-the-gut stage. Now I was all right. Everything in Divine Order, regardless of the consequences. I bless, release, and accept all the good which is flowing my way. I let go of my need to manipulate or control the outcome. (Some who know me might doubt that, but I really did it this time!) I felt at peace.
A few minutes later a smiling member of the crew (tan colored flight suit, indicating desert duty station) boarded the bus and asked if anyone had gone back to the terminal when they had said there were not enough seats. When he was assured we were all aboard, he said, "Good. We re-arranged the seating and there's room enough for all 20."
I just smiled and whispered, "Thank you, God."
I am now sitting inside the plane and it's crowded but the crew found enough room for us. (See pictures.) It's a loadmaster's call, and they have responsibility for the security of the cargo and safety of the passengers.
Now I'm at 40,000 feet over Canada, unable to sleep and stiff in all places due to the hammock-style bench seating. But it doesn't matter. All is in Divine Order, and we'll be together in England shortly.
I'll be blogging as we go. You're coming along, right?
