AMOS TROTTER WORLD POKER TOUR 05

Chapter 2

I found a Delta Airlines flight direct to Las Vegas departing late afternoon on the fifteenth of December. The registration and first day of play started on Monday the sixteenth. I planned on getting there at a reasonable hour with the time changes heading west, get a decent nights sleep and be ready to go Monday morning. The tournament is held in the Bellagio, a nice upscale casino with a wonderful fountain out front. Fortunately I was able to get a single room there making it much more convenient than traveling every day from another casino. I reserved the room for seven nights. I planned on doing well, lasting awhile.

Surprisingly Amelia agreed to drive me to the airport rather than making me bum a ride from someone or taking an airport shuttle. Maybe it was a little feeling of guilt on my part but even though she was not visibly angry she seemed a bit distant. The goodbye kiss at the airport was brief but in all the traffic with whistles from the security guys trying to hustle folks through it was necessary. Standing on the curb, fellow travelers flowing around me like water flowing around a river rock, the feeling of uncertainty welled up. I could only hope I had not made a huge mistake.

The Christmas travel season was beginning and the south terminal at the Atlanta airport was fairly busy as I checked through security to head toward my gate. Delta's curbside check-in made dropping the bag easy and it was liberating to have only me and my ticket plow through the mass of humanity hustling through the terminal either to a gate or for ground transportation. I marveled at the way some travelers decided to dress for their trip. Torn jeans, baggy sweatshirts, flip flops exposing questionable toes, unshaved and perhaps unwashed faces and bodies that made me hope they were not on my flight to Las Vegas. Announcements bellowed repeatedly from the garbled sound system might just as well have been in another language than english. It would probably be be just as well understood. For all I could tell perhaps they were speaking Arabic. It also didn't help that I was already missing Amelia and Christopher.

I found my gate, found a seat and as I waited for boarding to be called I became aware of a guy sitting across from me a few rows away who, even though he was trying not to be obvious, was looking at me. As my eyes moved to him his wandered away from me but not smoothly enough that I couldn't tell he was glancing my way. I studied his face long enough to be sure I didn't know him, then I chalked it up to maybe I looked like someone he knew. If he ever got close enough to speak we would clear it up, have a laugh and be on our way.

As the boarding began and my zone was finally called I scanned my ticket while joining the herd of humanity squeezing themselves into the movable walkway leading down to the door of the plane. There was a sense of release as the ticket was scanned which was only to be squashed by the backlog of passengers making their way slowly through the actual door of the plane.

As I got into the aisle of the plane it became obvious the people scrambling to be first to scan their tickets were also the ones who got seats closest to the front. And, to make sure the rest of us knew their good fortune, they took their own sweet time getting their bag in the overhead, removing their coat and folding it ever so neatly before cramming it in the space where it would be crushed by sliding bags, adjusting the rest of their clothing before sliding gracefully into their seat. Then invariably they had the audacity to smile sweetly as the rest of us slugs glided one row farther up before the next lucky traveler started the process over again. I have often wondered why the airlines don't start the boarding process from the rear of the plane and work toward the front a few rows at a time. The mysteries of travel.

The seat configuration on this flight was two seats on the right side of the plane and three on the left as you are facing forward. I had managed to get a window seat in the two seat side. Then it appeared I was really going to be lucky when the flow of passengers stopped and I could see the door being closed in preparation for roll back. I was starting to feel pretty good.

The seat remained empty. I laid my head back while we taxied, made announcements, pulled on to the runway and took off. We leveled out from the steep climb and the bell chimed while the lights for keeping the seat belt fastened went out. I loosened my seat belt, about to lower the center arm rest, when somebody plopped down in the aisle seat next to me. "Crap on a crutch"' I thought. Ten more seconds and I would have been sprawled out over both seats. As my wits returned from the shock of having an intrusion on what I now considered 'my space' I realized the intruder was the guy I had seen in the terminal who was frequently looking at me. It gave me pause.