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LLOYD HARSHAW
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LLOYD HARSHAW
Thursday, June 02, 2005
mirabel
Mirabel
I always wanted to go to Morocco and see why it brought Europe to the brink of war before 1914. ------President Teddy Roosevelt said he was mad enough at the Algeciras Conference to stand the Kaiser on his head.
I was glad when I heard the flight to Casablanca was leaving from Mirabel instead of Dorval. This way I got a nice long drive in the country-----and , safer too, because no terrorist would ever find the place.
The bus driver made good time because we only had to spend one night in a motel before we sighted the control-tower.(partly covered by moss.) You can easily recognize the place from the rusty Ford Tri Motors and Fokker bi-planes parked on the runways.
When I got out of the bus at the terminal, ten red caps raced for my bags and a fist-fight broke out. The other passenger had none. He was the spare driver who took the return trip back to Montreal. Nobody can last both ways without a break.
The short ,dark -haired winner of the brawl was built like a wrestler. He loaded my bags onto a cart and started for the coffee shop.
“What’s the idea? Aren’t we going to check them into the flight?” I asked
He gave me a reproachful look and then said, “It’s siesta time sir. The clerks are over in the staff room. They get back at three.”
Looking around the cavernous terminal I began to get the same creepy feeling as when I strolled through the Mayan ruins in Mexico.
“Do you think the plane will show up ?” I asked.
“Another comic,” he said with a smirk. “We had two flights in last week.”
After we finished our coffee he went out and sat on my bags presumably to wait for his tip.
So I handed him a dollar.
“You son of a bitch. You took me away from a good movie for this?”
I wasn’t equipped to fight this gorilla and there weren’t any police in sight so I handed him my credit-card.
By this time I was getting annoyed at this waste of our taxes on a graveyard.
“Okay boss” I said “but what will you do when they turn this derelict over to the Armed Forces?”
“Here we go again,” he said with a sigh “some guy said that last week.” Then he wheeled my bags over to the phone to check my card .
“Well?”
He turned and pointed his finger at me. “Listen, tell your other tax-payer jerks that this’s too good for the Air force. They’re building them a new base across the road.”
“What? In that cow pasture. An F-18 can’t take off in there.”
He smirked as he punched the numbers .
“Take off? They’ll be obsolete before they’re delivered anyway, so who cares.”
“Well what are they going to do with this place? Turn it into a museum?”
He looked around to make sure nobody was too close.
“Confidentially, Montreal’s after the Olympics again. An’ this is where they’ll hold the stock car races.”
“Your crazy. That’s not an Olympic sport.”
“Yeah? Wait till Jean Chretien comes out of retirement.”
After I grabbed my bags off the cart be hung up the phone and handed me a pen for the card.
“Want me to wait?”
“No, I can’t afford it.”
“Okay. But you better book into the hotel over there. The last flight was a day late.” Then he started back toward the other Red Caps. “And make sure you get a room on the ground floor. It’s extra if we have to use the elevator.”
Bob Harshaw
copyright 2005 all rights reserved
I always wanted to go to Morocco and see why it brought Europe to the brink of war before 1914. ------President Teddy Roosevelt said he was mad enough at the Algeciras Conference to stand the Kaiser on his head.
I was glad when I heard the flight to Casablanca was leaving from Mirabel instead of Dorval. This way I got a nice long drive in the country-----and , safer too, because no terrorist would ever find the place.
The bus driver made good time because we only had to spend one night in a motel before we sighted the control-tower.(partly covered by moss.) You can easily recognize the place from the rusty Ford Tri Motors and Fokker bi-planes parked on the runways.
When I got out of the bus at the terminal, ten red caps raced for my bags and a fist-fight broke out. The other passenger had none. He was the spare driver who took the return trip back to Montreal. Nobody can last both ways without a break.
The short ,dark -haired winner of the brawl was built like a wrestler. He loaded my bags onto a cart and started for the coffee shop.
“What’s the idea? Aren’t we going to check them into the flight?” I asked
He gave me a reproachful look and then said, “It’s siesta time sir. The clerks are over in the staff room. They get back at three.”
Looking around the cavernous terminal I began to get the same creepy feeling as when I strolled through the Mayan ruins in Mexico.
“Do you think the plane will show up ?” I asked.
“Another comic,” he said with a smirk. “We had two flights in last week.”
After we finished our coffee he went out and sat on my bags presumably to wait for his tip.
So I handed him a dollar.
“You son of a bitch. You took me away from a good movie for this?”
I wasn’t equipped to fight this gorilla and there weren’t any police in sight so I handed him my credit-card.
By this time I was getting annoyed at this waste of our taxes on a graveyard.
“Okay boss” I said “but what will you do when they turn this derelict over to the Armed Forces?”
“Here we go again,” he said with a sigh “some guy said that last week.” Then he wheeled my bags over to the phone to check my card .
“Well?”
He turned and pointed his finger at me. “Listen, tell your other tax-payer jerks that this’s too good for the Air force. They’re building them a new base across the road.”
“What? In that cow pasture. An F-18 can’t take off in there.”
He smirked as he punched the numbers .
“Take off? They’ll be obsolete before they’re delivered anyway, so who cares.”
“Well what are they going to do with this place? Turn it into a museum?”
He looked around to make sure nobody was too close.
“Confidentially, Montreal’s after the Olympics again. An’ this is where they’ll hold the stock car races.”
“Your crazy. That’s not an Olympic sport.”
“Yeah? Wait till Jean Chretien comes out of retirement.”
After I grabbed my bags off the cart be hung up the phone and handed me a pen for the card.
“Want me to wait?”
“No, I can’t afford it.”
“Okay. But you better book into the hotel over there. The last flight was a day late.” Then he started back toward the other Red Caps. “And make sure you get a room on the ground floor. It’s extra if we have to use the elevator.”
Bob Harshaw
copyright 2005 all rights reserved
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