Rambling on a delay in Toronto

Image walking towards customs and a man dressed in a suit approaches calling your name. How could anyone know who you are? I am tired and a little nervous as I have been up since three am and nervous because no one really answered your questions as you tried to find the correct door to for connecting flights. I can never sleep on a plane no matter the length of the flight. Put it down to fear as the people flying these planes as people you don’t know or trust. That and the only thing they ever seem to find is the black box when these planes crash. I bet the box is red anyway and why don’t they make the planes out of the same material as they do the black box. At least then the plane would… I know I digress.

Jean Paul introduces himself saying he has something that requires my attention in a side room. My stress level shots through the roof at this point as I am directed to an office between countries. The two tallest linemen type dudes that accompanied Jean Paul have flanked me. They close the door and ask me to sit. I don’t want to sit and I don’t want to be in this room with two giants that seem to block out any light. So I slowly sit down and ask nervously what the issue is. More like what F is going on man?

Jean Paul starts off by saying he is sorry for making me uncomfortable which does nothing to relieve the discomfort. He says my government requires my assistance for a job and hands me a diplomatic passport. There is a bag that must be handed to a face on a photo in O’Hare. As I ask the question “What the F….” the world seems to drift away. The mountains blocking the sun have put a needle into my arm.

The dream is weird to say the least, seven faces in seven cities in seven days. Guns, cars, one train and six planes between sun, clouds and rain all to bring me back to Jean Paul saying “Oh!  Your back!”.

What do you mean I am back? Last thing I recall is the Mountains and the needle. What is going on?

Well you seem to have taken a trip for your country and you go back to work tomorrow. I am at a loss and feeling like I need to toss some cookies on the desk in front of me. Looking down the clothes I am wearing is different. I have shoulder harness with a badge on it and a gun on. The two line men are sitting down across the room looking no less the mountains they are standing. There are no needles in my arm though which is an improvement I think. Jean Paul takes my passport away and asks me to hand over the gun. He tosses a new passport in front of me saying you’re free. It was issued this morning in Ottawa and is good for five years. The face on the second page looks different and older but the issue date throws me even more off balance. My head is swimming as it is but five years. I throw up there all over Jean Paul and the 5000 dollar suit.  This is the start of my story or the end of one story and the beginning of a new.  The Mountains one and two march me into a bathroom and wash my face ignoring all the questions.

Where am I?  

What is going on?  

Why did I have a gun?

“Sir! Wake up. You need to put your seat in a upright position we are about to land.”

I am sitting in a Air Cando jet in seat C2 on Flight AC1119 on February 26. Jean Paul a flight steward is saying you been sleeping Mr. Right. I shake my head. It seemed so real that dream. I never sleep on planes. Looking around the cabin two of the largest men I have ever seen are on either side of me.

The captain James O'Hare comes on the intercom saying the temp is -26 degrees outside as the windows  turns from clear to a fog.    

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