Baseball beaters can whine with anyone. No one understands the travel demands, the birthdays missed, the ‘days off’ burned by cross-country flights.
Yada, yada, yada.
The storms that canceled Seattle’s game in Arlington on Tuesday also banged an awful lot of flights out of Dallas. Travelers scrambled from one gate to another looking for the next plane to anywhere.
I was supposed to get out about 9 p.m. The flight was delayed until 10 p.m. then 11 p.m. and finally to 12:14 a.m., because the flight crew couldn’t get in.
About 12:30 a.m., the airline finally admitted the obvious – we weren’t going anywhere until 6:45 a.m. And because thousands of passengers from earlier flights had already headed for hotels, there were no rooms available.
So hundreds of us scoped out nice carpeted spots and laid down. We got into a discussion on how much money any of us would put on our company credit card if there were anywhere in the airport still serving food.
One man said he’d buy the whole terminal a burger, if he could find one.
There weren’t a lot of complaints, and with good reason. The storm that grounded us wiped out homes and schools, killed people and left others devastated.
So for once, the bile of righteous indignation didn’t overflow. When I got to Oakland today, my suitcase didn’t. I’m told it will, any day now. I can’t work up a whine today.
What happened in Texas, what happens every day somewhere in our world, is almost enough to keep baseball in perspective, too.