Posted by: AllisonJo
My fellow editor Sarah Meyer and I scheduled a couple of meetings in New York the day before our group’s big quarterly editorial meeting in Boston. We figured we could fly into La Guardia, snag a cab into Manhattan, knock our meetings out and then take a nice, easy ride on the Acela up to Boston. No sweat.
Mother nature, as she so often does, had other plans. Our plane was put into a hold pattern when we approached La Guardia, forced to land in Hartford for fuel, and then finally assigned a gate at Bradley International and everyone was told to wait inside the terminal for fuel and more news.
Wait we did. We’d been hopeful that after a quick pit stop we’d be back in the air, but as several other east coast-bound planes also dumped confused passengers into the terminal, the truth became obvious. We could kiss our meetings goodbye.
We managed to get our luggage off the plane as gate agents kept announcing things like,
“The update from air traffic control is that we’ll have another update in an hour.”
Not promising words. Getting into New York in time would now be impossible, so we headed straight for Boston by way of Peter Pan bus.
I had packed the Sony H55 in my bag, wanting to give it a test run on the first leg of my trip in New York. The idea of it was kind of romantic – snapping photos in Manhattan, then later at Penn Station, and taking a train up the coast of the Atlantic. As the light dimmed, I could get a few low-light shots in Boston. A day of quick, painless modern travel and a little shooting thrown in too.
Yet when our trip started going horribly, horribly wrong, taking out the camera in my bag was the last thing I wanted to do. Unless you have superhuman patience, having your plane diverted will put you in a pretty foul mood. Giving the Sony a test run went out of my mind as I focused my energy on getting to the right city.
I’m back home after several days of editorial meetings, and the memory card sitting in the H55 is still blank. Pretty soon I’ll put on my sneakers and head out the door, camera in hand, and give it a try on a walk through the neighborhood. No hold patterns, no unexpected layovers, and definitely no bus stations. My speed and my destination are up to me. I find that very reassuring, and while the scenes in my neighborhood are all too familiar, I’ll be content to stretch my legs and just come home whenever I’m ready. And that’s a pretty good trip to take.