ATILLA THE GATE AGENT
For a year or so I had been thinking that as much as I loved my old Takamine maple dreadnought acoustic-electric six string guitar (affectionately known as Bubbles the Blonde), and even though this guitar had been my steady companion for ten years, maybe it was time to upgrade to a better instrument. Something that sounded better, and also was a better fingerpicking guitar. But the idea of hitting the guitar shops for a big long search was somewhat daunting to me, both from a time standpoint, and also from a money standpoint. Good guitars are expensive.
Also because guitar stores are usually staffed by a demographic group we could label “Young Rock Musicians.” This is no knock against young rock musicians, because I used to be one. But somehow I’d never experienced a real coming together of “Young Rock Musicians” and “Great Customer Service.” Kind of a disconnect, really. Most of the time anyway.
So I put off making any kind of decision or even looking, and just kept it on the back burner. Sort of in the Need-To-But-Don’t-Want-To category.
That is until fate intervened at the Honolulu airport in the form of a woman I will affectionately refer to as Atilla the Gate Agent. For some reason -- power trip? bad lunch? -- Atilla absolutely refused to let me carry my guitar on the plane, as I had been doing every week for years with no problem. All my attempts at sincere, friendly, win-win negotiation, (and finally even begging) were curtly rebuffed. So reluctantly I surrendered it to her in its soft case -- which is a lightly padded case with no real protection. She gate checked it, and I prayed for the best.
Little did I know what the best was about to be. When we got to San Francisco my guitar was in an altered state. One commonly known as “splinters.” It was like a souvenir from a Who concert. It was not going to be played again. Except maybe as a percussion instrument.
Needless to say, for me this was a stressful event. Especially considering I had two gigs there in the next couple of days. My thoughts and feelings toward Atilla were not something I could share with you outside of group therapy. Especially knowing there had been plenty of room on the plane, and essentially no good reason the forced gate check.
Enter three angels in the form of flight attendants, who felt terrible about this horrible injustice, marched me down to baggage service, and saw to it that the manager there understood that this had been wrong and unneccesary, and that it would be extremely right and proper for them to do something to make things right. But the manager allowed as to how they never took responsibility for musical instruments. If I wanted to, I could come back in the morning and talk to a higher manager, but the company policy was firm.
So after a sleepless night of unsuccessfully trying not to be furious with Atilla, and feeling exhausted from my anger, I returned the next morning to speak with the higher manager. All the way there I was asking silently for help (just to keep my cool) from an even higher power.
And it worked! I was calm. After hearing my story, the higher manager left to confer with an even supremely higher manager. When they came back, they reminded me about their company policy of no compensation. I said I knew about that. But then to my great surprise, relief, joy, happiness, and improved digestion, they said they had decided to buy me a new guitar. I said thanks and got out of there before they could change their minds.
Since I was in San Francisco, I asked my musician friends where to go, and they said the Haight-Ashbury Music Center was the best place. So I got to spend the next two days in Haight-Ashbury. In case you haven’t been there lately, it’s kind of like a corner of the Twilight Zone where the ‘60s coexists along with the present day and some future decade I can’t even imagine. There is every conceivable kind of hairdo, tattoo, pierced body part, alternative clothing, spiritual orientation, and dietary preference. Definitely not in Kansas anymore. Not even in Peculiar, Missouri. It’s an experiential journey through the senses.
I also got to try out a few dozen guitars in the store, and the sales people were not only friendly but incredibly helpful. They were patient, knowledgeable, and willing to answer my endless questions. The whole experience turned out to be one of the more entertaining and colorful of the year.
But the main thing is, I ended up with this great new guitar I’m absolutely crazy about! I love it so much, I haven’t missed the old one for ten seconds. It’s a much better instrument than my old guitar, more fun to play, and even sounds better. It’s hundreds of dollars more expensive than my old guitar. And it was totally paid for by the airline!
But the thing is, I owe it all to Atilla the Gate Agent.
You just never know who’s gonna turn out to be an angel in your life. They might not look like it.
© 2007 Greg Tamblyn
Tamblyn’s music can be heard, and ordered, online at www.gregtamblyn.com.