An Accident Waiting to Happen by Donna Lattanzio

Author:Donna Lattanzio
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press

CALL IT A HAPPY DAY

April 11, 1978

It was the type of day when you just knew that everything would go right. There would be a bounce to your step. A feeling of light airiness as if a fairy had sprinkled happy dust on you while you slept.

My train was on time, two minutes early, in fact. And Marco, the good-looking kid behind the deli counter, had my bagel buttered, my coffee steaming. Everyone on the streets of Madison Avenue seemed in a jolly mood, smiling, full of good jives.

So far, things had fallen into place for me, and I felt truly fortunate, considering the brief time I had been in New York.

My job as a flight scheduler at Jet King was exciting. I juggled flights for clients in Hong Kong, Tokyo, Singapore, and London, as well as a dozen domestic flights. I assisted extravagantly rich wives who wished to vacation or party in Malibu, Puerto Rico, Acapulco. It amazed me, the number of CEOs and government officials and wealthy travelers who were willing to part with big chunks of their money simply for the ease and anonymity of traveling in great comfort via Jet King.

We were five schedulers in all—three women, two men. The rest of the company included managers, secretaries, human resources, and the accounting office.

The only thorn in my side was the one person I had to deal with on a regular basis—Bunny Dupree—a bitter woman who managed the accounting office. She was nearing retirement age and obviously resented it. Her hair was a bird’s nest of curls, her pancake makeup a throwback from another generation. Having Bunny in charge of accounting was like having an alcoholic supervise a liquor store. For whatever odd reason, Bunny and I clashed heads every step of the way.

But that day was different; even Bunny smiled at me. Every flight I had scheduled was on time and everyone I spoke with was happy, deliriously so.

At 4:55, I looked up to see Mr. Levine at my desk, a thick envelope in his hand.

“This package needs to be delivered to an important client traveling on an incoming flight. It needs to be handed to him directly. Would you mind delivering it?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

He handed me the envelope; a quick glance showed it was addressed to Larry Fitzgerald. I hurried onto the Special Services transport van that waited outside for me. I was the only passenger aboard as we headed to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey—with me delivering a package deemed far too important to entrust to our regular messenger service.

We arrived at Teterboro at 6:11 p.m. I was directed to arrival hangar #5. The setup there was unique: space for several aircraft, designated rooms for food and beverage storage, and a parts and supply room for mechanical engineering. Peripherally, I noticed prefabricated office cubicles with plexiglass see-through windows. The furniture looked dated, as if it had been transferred from a prison. There were side doors leading to God knows where and mechanics wearing blue Jet King jumpsuits.

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