If you have read much here, you know that I once worked for Delta Airlines.
Something that I haven't really talked very much about, because it's not important, is that I actually worked for Delta Airlines twice.
Where I grew up in Monroe, Louisiana, our across-the-street neighbor was the local airport's Station Manager for Delta Airlines. When I turned 18, and was in college the first time, Mr. H offered me a job working for Delta. I only worked there for a few months, because I had the dubious honor of working there when the U.S. air traffic controllers went on strike, and Ronald Reagan called them on it. Air travel took a down turn, and Delta laid me off. I went back to Delta five years after that.
I have told a story or two about that time, but this recent movie, Snakes On A Plane, reminded me of something that happened to me while I was working for Delta that first time, in Monroe.
I was a baggage handler, and in a small station like Monroe, I did whatever needed to be done. Wash, clean, mop, paint, whatever. So we handled freight in and out that was sent via Delta's planes.
One Saturday, we had a shipment of two items containing snakes coming in on a 727 from Atlanta, for our local zoo. No big deal.
And when the plane was parked, I opened and locked the rear cargo bin door for us to remove the baggage, mail, and freight. (in that order)
When Prezell, the guy I was working with that day, pulled the cart up to offload the baggage, I jumped into the cargo area to start throwing the baggage to the doorway, for him to grab and to put on the cart.
After removing a few items, I saw that the freight (snakes) we were expecting were, in fact, two wooden boxes.
And. The. End. Of. One. Of. The. Boxes. Was. Opened.
I froze. Then moving only my head, looked around for snakes.
Not seeing any, I jumped from the cargo bin onto the flat little baggage cart we were using. I yelled to Prezell that one of the boxes of snakes was open and his eyes got as big as saucers. He said he sure as h#$$ wasn't going in there.
So, we went over to our Lead Agent (boss for the day) and told him about it. But about this same time, fortunately, the guy from the zoo shows up looking for their snakes.
We told him one of the crates was open, but he told us that each snake was in its own bag, and that despite the box being open, they shouldn't have gotten out.
Now, I've never been terrified of snakes though I also don't love them, so I went back out, got in there and re-closed the box, got it and the other box into the cart and took it over to the guy. And we finally also got the poor waiting passengers their luggage.
But the snake guy from the zoo, just Popped Open the box. Started pulling bag after bag out (with us backing away the whole time) and checked to make sure he had the right number of snakes.
He did.
I still remember the relief I felt. I mean, some snakes are small, and the possibility of one being on the plane still, or worse, on someone's luggage they were about to get off the carousel, was remote but real until his head count came up right.
Once the pressure was off, I started wondering stuff like, "How do the snakes breathe in those bags they were in?" and things like that.
I didn't think to ask how many of the ones there were poisonous, but since they were all accounted for, it didn't matter anyway.
And though it all ended up being much ado about nothing, there for a while, our minds were in overdrive about the possibility of a bunch of snakes being loose among the baggage, mail, and freight we were to remove.
The mind is a terrible thing.
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