A Delayed Vacation

When I awakened and saw the pearly sky above the alarm clock that had failed to ring, I knew I’d missed my flight.

I shouted, bit my lip, punched my pillow.

Then I sat up and faced facts: because of close connections between San Diego and the British Virgin Islands, my short vacation was in jeopardy.

Even worse, I was flying to Tortola in the Virgin Islands to go sailing with friends. My delay would affect their plans.

Check Available Space

I dialed American Airlines and confessed. They were polite, but said that nothing could be settled by telephone: I must present myself at the airport within two hours. They would have to check available space for an upgrade to first-class, even with my thousands of American Advantage miles.

I had carefully packed the night before and laid out the clothes I would wear: an eggplant denim skirt and jacket over a white linen shirt. A broad-brimmed straw hat, a string bag and pale beige flats. After dressing, I turned up my car heater and drove to Lindbergh Field.

The airport was quiet. The morning rush had ended. The ticket agent, who took to his computer to see what could be done, was like a professor who wanted to let me make up a missed exam. He read his monitor, clucked and shook his head. He punched more numbers.

“This happens most often when people are going on vacation,” he said. “They relax a little early. People rarely miss business trips.”

Overnight Necessary

I could start toward Tortola, it turned out, but I would have to overnight in Dallas or San Juan, Puerto Rico. The agent suggested waiting 24 hours, and this time getting it right.

I pocketed my new ticket and thanked him for his help. I wondered what to do next. I had said goodby to the office. I had cut off my chance to return home immediately by arranging for carpet cleaners that day.

I straightened my straw hat, buttoned my cotton jacket against the February chill and drove to the harbor-front cluster of shops and cafes known as Seaport Village.

It was early. Parking was easy. At the bookshop-coffeehouse of Upstart, Crow & Co. I ordered a tall cup of mocha espresso. I eavesdropped on the patter of passers-by, happy tourists who had arrived at their destination.

Shopping Spree

Then I remembered the slogan: “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.” I headed for the bright lights of Nordstrom.

A salesperson with curly dark hair said she liked my straw hat. I admitted that I had planned to be on my way to the Caribbean at that hour but had missed the flight.

She was sympathetic. Last fall she had missed a plane to Miami, which meant that she missed a cruise ship bound for Mexico. A travel agent gave her the wrong flight time. To try to recoup some vacation she flew to Cozumel, Mexico.

“There I was, standing on the beach in the wind and the rain, waiting for my ship to come in,” she said. “It got nearer and nearer and then it began backing away. It was that hurricane--Gilbert--and the ship could not dock.

“The worst part was what happened when I went back to the resort and looked for the ladies’ room. There was a pool of crocodiles just outside the door. With the winds and the heavy rains, the water level was up and the crocodiles were trying to crawl out.”

She began laughing at the memory. She reminded me that I was on vacation, even though I had not yet left town.

I checked the movie listings at Horton Plaza and settled for a midweek matinee with four sailors and a couple of elderly shoppers.

The film fit the occasion: “The Accidental Tourist.”