An Old Story, but funny enough

Trains, Planes & Automobiles


Some time ago I went to Chicago with a friend of mine on a business trip. Most business trips with Roger are just that. All business, and not especially unusual. This one turned into a day from the Monty Python Flying Circus, with a variety of situations normally seen only in movies. The day started early for us. Our company airplane had engine trouble and was in St. Louis having repairs. We were to be in Chicago to meet with an insurance company to update and redesign a three year multi-million dollar workers comp plan. Since the company plane we normally used was unexpectedly down, our secretaries decided that we should travel business class on the train, and be picked up in Chicago by the Vendor. The train leaves Quincy at 6:00 A.M. sharp, and I was there waiting for Roger when the train showed up. I stood on the platform as the train loaded, and I stood there as the conductor made his last minute preparations for leaving. No Roger. Roger was the heavy today, and I was the practical knowledgeable engineer who would bring things back together after all of the profiling and posing by larger characters had been done. The conductor was adamant about the leaving time of the train, and I was about to give up hope, when my friend came racing into the parking lot and slid up to a parking place.
We boarded, and our adventure began. The first thing I noticed about Roger was that he was wearing almost exactly the same outfit as me. Same color suit. (Black) Identical overcoat. (Black) Extremely similar hats. (Black) What an unusual thing. You see Roger is a very large man. Possibly six foot 4 or 5 and about 350 lbs. with or without a heavy overcoat. I, on the other hand top out at 5 foot 10, and about 175 on an average day. So we are making our way back to the pseudo luxury of the Business class car from the front of the train where we loaded to the very last car. We looked like a couple of hit men. All that was missing was dark glasses and a violin case.
After laughing a little about our choice of apparel for the day, and his mad rush to the train station, we settled down to some coffee and a newspaper and began going over last minute coordination of what we expected out of each other during the meeting. Settled that, and settled in for a long ride to Tinsel town. Neither of us had taken a train for many years, and the novelty kept us entertained for a while. The scenery is quite different than what we normally see from the corporate jet. As I said, it was early, and we watched the sun come up on the cornfields and sleepy villages of downstate rural Illinois. Really quite lovely. We were about an hour from our destination, and I was looking out the window as we passed through a small town. I heard a noise, and was amazed to see the engine of an automobile flying away from the train towards a steel-sided building. It never paused at the wall. Right on through into the business, undoubtedly surprising the workers inside. During the same instance I looked down and back to see an old man holding the steering wheel of a car that was spinning in circles with nothing in front of the windshield. The whole car had been cut off. We informed the conductor, and soon other people reported the same scene. The train came to a stop about a mile up the track. Apparently, this fellow had tried to end it all that morning. He had come to a stop behind a couple of cars at the gate, and then suddenly passed them and ran into the side of the train. The train was going 70 mph, and mass and kinetic energy had their way. We didn’t know the whole story at that point, and were feeling sorry for the fellow. It turns out he was relatively uninjured, and now we had to wait while endless forms were filled out, and emergency crews cleared the damage. Our concern turned to ire as we found he was not injured, and now we were going to be late for our meeting. We called the person who was to pick us up, and explained the delay. (Thank goodness for cell phones) He agreed to meet us at an earlier station, and we were soon rumbling up the track.
The insurance fellow who picked us up had had some trouble of his own that morning, and was driving his wife’s car. His wouldn’t start. We were late, and so we tore across the town like madmen in this fellow’s car. We get to the business, and what a fine building it is. All glass front. Hardwood furniture in elegant boardrooms, and secretaries wearing $400. outfits. The meeting not only started late, it started mad. Underwriters were unhappy with their agents selling us insurance at the previous rate due to some recent losses. Agents knew we were certain to drop the company if they suddenly changed the rules during the game. We were unprepared to sign up for the unexpected increase, and shouting ensued. Briefs were thrown across the table. Fists were pounded. At one point, Roger (the very big fellow) actually stood up and shook his finger at the little fellow next to him, and I know he was intimidated to the max. This meeting contained all of the elements of the meetings Roger and I were used to. Insurance patsies, on the other hand, are apparently not used to such a fiery exchange. I do not remember if we won or lost, only that we played well. Toward the end of the meeting Roger got a call from his secretary, who informed us that the train was too damaged for the return trip that day, and we would have to find alternate transportation back to Quincy. Roger told her it was nice to be informed, but also part of her job to get us back. He told her to have tickets at the airport waiting at the counter when we got there. We left right away, and true to the day, the fellow dropped us off at the wrong end of the airport, and merrily drove away. We ran across O’Hare airport with our hats in our hands like fools. We arrived at the gate just as the plane was boarding. Roger had a ticket, and I didn’t. I was on standby, and the plane was full. Having about $35 in my pocket, and looking at not being able to get home that night left me a little short on temper. This day really had been too much. Roger told me he was going home, and that I should have a better secretary. He went ahead and boarded the plane. I was stranded. Just as I was about to give up and go away, a couple showed up at the counter with just the same problem. They were apparently married, and this fellow was apparently a gentleman. He decided not to leave his wife stranded in a strange airport, and gave up his seat to me. The plane had already pulled away from the loading ramp, and the counter person was able to stop it before it pulled onto the tarmac. They pushed a portable ramp up against it, opened the door again, and I ran with the counter person across the lot to board. As I passed Roger in the plane looking for my seat I was overcome with the urge to knock the hat off of his head. I gently tipped it into the seat behind him as I passed, saying “Oh Excuse Me” ever so gently.
Well, finally I find my seat, and settle down for what I expect to be a smooth end to my day. The lady next to me is giving me funny looks. In fact she is unabashedly staring at me whether I look back or not. I am on a plane in Chicago, and now I am sitting across from a really weird person, who is not just being weird by herself, she is trying to involve me. I try to ignore her, but suddenly it becomes impossible. She says; “I KNOW YOU” in a voice loud enough that virtually everyone in the plane heard. She says: “ I always wanted you to stop and give me a ride on your motorcycle.” Maybe she did know me. It turns out she grew up just a mile up the road from me in a very small community, and was the younger sister of the person who I might have recognized. We laughed about coincidence, and had such a good time of it I was truly sorry to see her depart at the Burlington airport. She was traveling home for the holidays, and had not been home for years. She had dreaded the trip, and now here was a sign that things would turn out ok.
We arrived at the Quincy airport long after dark. The snow was blowing, and there were no taxi’s running. No one was around. My wife couldn’t be reached to pick us up. Roger’s wife was in the same situation. Roger called one of the accountants who worked for him, and explained that being on salary sometimes means getting out of bed, and going to the airport to pick up his boss. He took it in good humor, and we soon had a ride home. We laughed about it later, but this day stands out in my mind as an example of life at that company. Roger and I are still friends, but the company is a thing of the past. Probably, days like these are the trials that bond truly good friends. That day worked out fine in the end. Life is in the details.
Steve Forrester
2001