As I got off the plane in Raliegh/Durham, NC, I had a message from a fellow flight attendant friend of mine. The message went something like this: "Jeremy!! What on earth did you do? Why are you working that crappy trip on friday?? Do you want me to trade it? Call me back!"
Fact is, I didn't want to work it. I was hoping to trade it. I gave her a call back, and she said that if something else pops in open time thats better, she'll grab it for me.
So I have to explain open time. It's basically un-covered trips. If you have a trip that starts on friday, you can check friday's open trips, and if you like one of those better, you can trade it up until 9pm on the night before you trip.
The trip I was currently on was a burbank/vegas overnights, but the trip itself was completely awful, with a six..thats SIX!! legs on the second day, and aircraft swaps everytime you go through Vegas. awful. Only good thing is that grubbsy lives very near burbank, and I could see them and have dinner with them.
Night before my trip, I log on, scowering open time every 5 minutes to see if anything pops in. It was nothing after nothing, crappy trip after crappy trip. Funny that the only trip in there was the 2 other positions on the same trip I was on. In other words, I was the only one not to trade out of that stupid trip.
I gave it up, and called grubbsy to see what he was doing on a Monday night.
He was sick. Great. Last thing I wanna do is get sick.
Open time, once more.
About 5 minutes before 9, closing time, another trip popped in there. San Diego/SaltLake. Sweet, I grabbed it before anyone else did. I opened up the trip..it was 19 hrs in SD, which was nice. I was satisfied, for it would have to do.
Then it hit me. Oh my gosh, thats where the World Baseball Classic is!!! I hurried up and pulled up the espn WBC website, and sure enough, the night that I was going to be there, it was the Final game between Cuba and Japan. It was a dream come true.
Monday night, after dinner with my crew, I wandered over to the stadium by myself, and scalped a $30 ticket. I was in. I bought a game program, borrowed a pencil from guest services, and parked myself in an upper deck seat, and listened to the chants of "CUBA. CUBA. CUBA." Except it sounded more like "Kooba, kooba, kooba."
I was at the Final game of the very first WBC. It was history. And I was happy.