Turbulence

  Turbulence

  Edward MacMillan

  Copyright © 2015. Edward MacMillan. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce any or all of the contents of this book, in any manner. The author exclusively retains all rights to reproduce, transmit, upload, download, compile, decompile, reverse-engineer, hold in any retrieval system format, scan, photograph, photocopy or fax, distribute via the Internet, or in any other manner the contents of this book. Without exception, written permission of the author is required for any action relating to the content of this book.

  ISBN: 978-1-62217-422-5

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  One

  I was in the window seat again, staring at the bright sky with drifting marshmallow clouds, immersed in thought. My travel plans had been disrupted and hastily rearranged due to an emergency where my presence was urgently required thousands of miles away. I had been in Acapulco after a previous meeting filled three days with late night sessions in Mexico City. We were discussing and reviewing plans for a proposed luxury hotel to be built in a high-end tourist section of the capital, where competing four and five star hotels existed along with excellent restaurants and theaters.

  Those meetings were contentious, however, because there were differences between our local partners and us in regard to what constituted new competition by the project, not only for American tourists, but also wealthy Mexican patrons as well. Our partners had strong feelings and nationalistic pride in that regard. But, in addition, there were special problems in engineering due to historic earthquake vulnerabilities in the city that affected our planning. We consisted of a team of three: Mark, the engineering specialist from headquarters; Braden, the company attorney who oversaw all our international legal requirements; and me, Kevin Logan, the hotel operations vice president.

  Having resolved, therefore, most of the Mexico City problems, except for Braden’s always and forever caveat that all legal agreements were subject to home office review, I had felt good about our work there and looked forward to my subsequent business trip to Acapulco. Our hotel there had not been a development but an acquisition from a Mexican hotel company, and we had transformed it into a very viable operation. Besides that, I had secretly violated one of my strict maxims to my hotel managers and myself in all of our resorts and that was that you are a manager and your mission is to “sell the act that we offer in all our advertising and our attractive amenities, but you never, ever buy the act yourself.” Doing so would be cause for immediate dismissal.

  The truth was, however, that I had fallen in love with the resort city and its gorgeous topography, charm, and ambience. So, while I was the same driven executive that worked myself and others all day and night if need be to complete the work agenda set up before I even left New York, I always set aside the last day or two in the trip to unwind. I allowed myself to enjoy the daytime activities at one of our competitor’s beaches and the rollicking sensuous disco nightlife as well.

  Now, though, while I attended to our work agenda, including our review of operations, financial reports, and the forecast of future bookings, we spent, again, on Mexican start time, considerable night work in completing it. Early the next morning, with the Acapulco agenda finished, I received a call from the boss, our CEO Russell Martin.

  The problem was at one of our new hotels in Asia. It was recently completed and expected to hold its grand opening in two weeks, which the other execs from New York and I had anticipated attending. He told me that the hotel had been busy stocking our new property with all operating supplies, including food and beverages, to prepare for incoming guests, and also for the grand opening party to which all the important locals, including government officials, planned to attend.

  Then he said, “Kevin, I don’t care what your plans were, you’re gonna have to get your ass on a plane as soon as possible. Government inspectors arrived at the hotel yesterday and placed tape across all our storerooms and walk-in refrigerators and freezers. They are calling all our supplies imports and nothing can be taken out of storage without paying a ridiculously exorbitant import tax. Local management cannot dissuade them from impounding these supplies. They say that you have violated their laws because you are importing from Australia and Japan, while the country has like or superior products locally.”

  “But that’s not so,” I protested. “We did try to purchase locally, but our investigation made us very skeptical of the quality of the meat, and yes, we did decide to import most of our meats and specialty food items from Australia and Japan. Most dry goods were purchased locally, except for special paper goods and cleaning supplies not found in the country.”

  “It doesn’t matter why or what you did. The fact of the matter is, we have purchased these items and they’re in the hotel, but we can’t use them unless we pay an import tax that will effectively double the original price,” Russ insisted. “Furthermore,” he went on, “this can’t be handled by telephone or fax. This has to be taken care of personally. Our South Korean assistant manager tells us that we need the heavy hitters from headquarters or this could continue to happen”

  So that’s why my GM was talking directly to my boss.

  “I agree, but can’t someone else handle it? I’m not prepared after ten days away for that long a trip. What is it, some eight thousand miles? That’s three days flying.”

  “Its seventy-five hundred,” he barked, “and time is short. You’re already on the West Coast.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “not exactly. It’s the Mexican west coast, but okay, I’ll try to book connecting flights out sometime today, and figure out my itinerary and laundry as soon as I can. It might cost some expense monies for change of clothes.”

  “Whatever, just get to it ASAP and give me your ETA and flight numbers as soon as you know,” he replied and hung up.

  “Damn,” I said. I thought I better get Al’s gal on the phone to see if we can catch a Rainbow flight out to Dallas and then to either LA or San Francisco. Al is the GM of the Acapulco property and an excellent manager. He’s an Italian-American and speaks several languages, including Spanish with a Mexican accent. He’ll know what the right connections are and, while he knows that domestically we are required to fly Rainbow Airlines, he will also know the right international carrier, probably JAL to Japan, over to the mainland. I left instructions with him while I headed to my suite to pack. Instead of a day or two relaxing, I would now hop over to the Princess property beachfront for a couple of hours to recharge before the long journey.

  Thinking about the conversation with Russ, I couldn’t help consider what Rainbow might think of this possible international dustup. After all, Rainbow has been our partner for several years. From what was a modest size restaurant company, Harrison Restaurants, there was a decision to branch out into the hotel business and seek out hotel professionals. That’s when I was recruited. Later on, after we had established ourselves in Acapulco, a symbiotic relationship occurred between our sister company, Harrison Hotels, and Rainbow Airlines.

  While Rainbow had grown into a medium-size carrier domestically, they desperately wanted an international tag to expand and Mexico was the closest. Unfortunately, most of the larger airlines had connections, and even actual partnerships, with Acapulco hotels because they couldn’t fill the seats unless they could find the rooms. H
arrison needed to partner with a capital source and Rainbow needed us to expand, and a deal was made with landing permits granted by Mexico. It worked out very well for both companies there, and in other areas, including our own extensive travel arrangement needs. Then, because of the difficulty of getting into the overwhelmingly competitive European market, Rainbow International was ready to look into the ever-expanding Pacific Rim market based on their success in Mexico, and proposed finding a hotel investment site in a non-communist Asian country. We found such a site in Seoul, South Korea. Rainbow provided much needed capital and gave the FAA and South Korea a sound basis for granting a permit for that market. Accordingly, as I lunched and sunbathed, I understood Russ’s anxiety, but wished I could have spent another day before leaving.

  “Si, Senor,” said the hotel driver as he rounded the curve on the highest part of the cliff run to the airport and a panorama of exquisite natural beauty revealed itself below. The entire bay of Acapulco and the Pacific Ocean beyond had almost too much beauty to ingest in a single sweeping glance. On the far right were the cliffs, where graceful homes were surrounded with colorful bougainvilleas that hung precariously above the crashing waves below. Further to the right and behind us were the beautiful gleaming hotels and sparkling white beaches. I looked back to the naval base where an assortment of ships was floating as if a giant hand had placed them there as toys. The Princess Hotel and Resort was directly below, and in front of it was Acapulco’s only ocean beach.

  The scenery was so intoxicating, I almost forgot what I had asked Pedro, and then realized that I had wanted to know if we were in plenty of time for me to handle the baggage arrangements before boarding. “Bueno,” I said, concerned about the logistics of my bags arriving in Dallas and then being transferred to another plane bound for San Francisco. I wasn’t worried about the transfer in Dallas, I was more concerned with seeing the proper transfer tickets attached to my bag in Acapulco Aero Puerto, because sometimes the Mexican way is not exactly like the American way, especially in laid-back Acapulco.

  I was seated in the empty first row of first class facing the bulwark between the galley and the main cabin. It was a comfortable location, not only away from coach, but one that offered the most legroom in the entire plane. In a pretty empty plane, like this early evening one out of Acapulco, I asked for that at the counter, and with the agent recognizing my Harrison credentials, I scored first class and that very row. Besides, who leaves Acapulco at that time?

  While flying between the brilliant blue and fleece fluffs of cloud, a pleasant female voice interrupted my review of the past several days.

  “What would you like to drink, sir?” she inquired. She was really good looking, brunette, and late twenties or thirty with a great smile.

  “Vodka, please. Rocks, splash of tonic, lime.” As she turned to attend to the order immediately, because the galley was right beside us, I couldn’t help notice she was also in great shape. I confirmed that thought moments later when she delivered my drink and then took drink orders from the rest of the cabin.

  It’s not like I go out of my way to check out females. As a single, divorced guy, I live an active social life in New York when I’m not traveling, but ordinarily I’m laser focused when on the job. But then again, it’s not the usual nine to five as it covers a lot of territory, including flying to my next destination.

  I’m still uncomfortable about my flight plans, although I had checked my bag through to San Francisco. Al had said there was an early morning JAL flight out that was one stop through Honolulu. There was also an alternate flight I could catch in Anchorage, which is a popular destination for long haul flights from the east because it allows them to re-fuel with the least amount of hassle and is a shorter northern route to Tokyo.

  Either way, I’m going to spend a night on the West Coast and probably another night in Tokyo or Honolulu. I’ve got a three hour layover in Dallas and I will spend that time nailing down the most efficient route, because it’s not only speed, it’s also what jet lag condition we’re in when we land. We have a hard and fast rule regarding flying to the Asian mainland. No one is allowed to enter into any negotiations within twenty-four hours of arrival, unless the last leg is Tokyo.

  Once the drinks were served and the snacks dispersed, there not being any meal service, there was extra time for the attendants. Apparently, there was only one servicing first class. After clearing glasses from the other passengers, she approached my seat and said, “Would you like another drink, Mr. Logan?”

  “No, thanks, two is my limit, at least on this flight, and especially after a week in Mexico City and Acapulco.”

  “You look like you spend a lot of time in Acapulco. Is that a favorite vacation spot?”

  “Yes and no,” I said, realizing she was referring to my tan, which only took me a couple of hours earlier that day to rejuvenate in the tropical sun to look like I’d been there for weeks. “I really like Acapulco, but it’s also a business destination for me.”

  “Well, anyway, it suits you, and added to your salt and pepper hair, it’s a great look.” Whoa, I thought, is that a pass?

  “Thank you,” was all I could muster, hoping there might be more.

  “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I noticed your Harrison association. Are you returning to Dallas or are you continuing?”

  “No. While I come to Dallas frequently, I’m continuing after a three hour layover.”

  “Really? I actually live in Dallas, right off the access road to the airport. This will be the end of my shift.”

  Now I didn’t need a compass, the rest was up to me.

  “Maybe we might have a drink at the airport, it’s going to be a long wait.”

  “Thank you, but I wouldn’t have a drink in uniform at the airport, but perhaps we could have it elsewhere.”

  “Of course, I should have realized. Sounds great. What’s your name? I’m Kevin,” I said, offering my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Kevin. Allison. I will finish the galley cleanup and let you know where to meet. We’ve still got an hour and half of flight time.”

  Well, I thought, this is convenient, although I’m a little conflicted. I need to spend some time investigating the best flight to Asia, and attending to my personal travel needs, such as getting clean clothes and especially business attire. I’m going from one of the most laid-back areas of the world, Acapulco, where it is said that nobody ever wears a suit coat except on two occasions: to a reception at the naval base and to a wake. At the resort we live in khakis and polo shirts during work hours and in guayabera shirts and slacks in the evening, no matter the occasion. Now I’ll be traveling to one of the most formal countries in the world. A businessman would never dream of deplaning in South Korea in anything other than a suit and tie, so I’ve got some strategic planning to do.

  On the other hand, this occasion, however spontaneous, is an activity where the body is telling the brain what to do, rather than the reverse most of the time. Whatever else we are, we are also animals, and certain needs are of that bodily nature. That includes hunger, thirst, sleep, and I chuckle, fight or flight, and sex. I’m a lover, not a fighter.

  Still, while I believe in working hard and playing hard, I never want to mix the two, and my first priority is South Korea and I need some ground time to decide. I do have my always-present carry-on bag with personal toiletries, some underwear, and an occasional shirt, but not when I last packed for Acapulco. To determine what I really need, I should go through my bag, but it’s already checked through to San Francisco.

  It’s about an hour to Dallas and I stop Allison as she makes her rounds. Fortunately, the two rows behind me are empty on both sides so no one can overhear us and I say, “Listen, can you do me a big favor? I am heading to Asia after Dallas and my bag is checked to San Francisco. Could you ask the captain if he would call in to have the baggage attendant intercept my bag on landing and get it to me? It would really help me out.” I handed her my claim check.

  �
�Sure,” she said, “I can do that, it’s not a problem. The entire crew flies this DFW to ACA route on a regular basis, so we know each other well, and when I tell him you’re connected through Harrison to Rainbow, it’ll be fine.”

  “Great, thank you, I appreciate it.” I leaned back in my seat relaxed, knowing that, while in Dallas, I will still be taking care of business, even if some of it might possibly be monkey.

  Deplaning in Dallas, I head to the location at DFW where she had described the crew facilities and said the bag would be sent to her there. After a short wait, she appeared pulling two wheeled bags, including my large two-suitor. Along with my carry-on bag, we strolled side-by-side pulling our respective cargo.

  “Lets get a taxi,” she said, “and we can drop these off at my place and go directly from there.”

  “Fine,” I said, heading to the cabstand, relieved to know that I would have an opportunity and place to inventory my luggage in private.

  I was surprised when we arrived and I was about to give the cabbie wait instructions that she said, “Look, just pay the fare and let him go. I need to change and you probably do too. We can call another cab or use my car.”

  “Okay,” I replied, not wishing to make any changes to her plans. Everything was A-OK with me.

  Stepping into her nicely furnished apartment, she pointed to a section off the living room and said, “Put your bags in the guest room, there’s a bathroom off that room, and the bar is over there in the corner. Pour yourself a drink and I’ll get changed.”

  A-OK was still my position and I dropped the bags onto the double bed in the guest room and then went to the bathroom and bar. I checked my watch, and with relief, noted that I had all of two hours and forty-five minutes before I had to get back to the airport. I couldn’t ask for more comfort, privacy, and time, and consequently, being in good spirits. I wondered if the cocktail lounge was as convenient.

  After filling the ice bucket and checking out the little corner bar with the mirrored back wall, I noted it was well stocked with vodka, bourbon, and scotch, with a Mexican component of tequila and Kailua. I had plenty of time to do my bag inventory as well.