Between December 26-27, I had my first and, hopefully, last experience of "being on standby" (for about 24 hours) as a domestic traveller (Port of Spain to Tobago via CAL) at Christmas time.
This became necessary when I inadvertently mixed up the departure time of my booked Boxing Day ferry ride back to Tobago.
Upon arrival at Piarco, I met a crowd of anxious people waiting for their standby numbers to be called - for what felt like a needle-in-a-haystack opportunity to get a seat on a flight to the sister isle.
Many of us gathered were Tobago dwellers, needing to get back home because of personal and/or professional responsibilities. Most others present were heading over for leisure.
'There was a time when they gave priority to those with a Tobago address on their IDs...but no more!' cried a woman who had been there since 10 am.
She broke into tears when a CAL representative announced around 8.30 pm that no more numbers would be called...and to 'come back tomorrow; the counter opens at 4 am.'
'Where will I sleep tonight?' she cried, understandably anguished.
Her guests, two foreigners, remained silent, clearly stunned by the chaos involved in what could be a very simple process - getting passengers from one island to another on a domestic air carrier.
Two other people with whom I spoke, had come from abroad to get to Tobago via Trinidad and had no idea that acquiring a domestic flight ticket would involve such drama.
One Tobago man, there since earlier that morning, complained about being treated like 5th-class citizens, when all we were trying to do was 'get home' or 'get to work.'
'They don't want to hot me up,' the woman sitting next to me mumbled at one point.
'We wish you a Merry Christmas' piping through the audio system was a striking contrast to the understandable frustration of the (mainly) Tobago-dwelling sector of the crowd.
Meanwhile, the vacationers appeared relaxed, knowing that (if from Trinidad) when they got too fed up they could simply leave and 'come back tomorrow' or 'not bother to go again' (as some announced)...that (being in holiday mode) they could treat the entire experience as a lime if they wanted to...and, as one man advised - just relax and accept, because it happens year after year and will never change.
Torn between camping overnight at Piarco or returning to my parents' house to sleep, I chose the latter. I returned to the airport at 4 am on December 27 to meet an even larger crowd and no rollover of previously-chosen numbers. My old number was #55; the new one placed me at #57 on the standby list.
'Where you went?' and 'I was looking for you!' two fellow "standby-ers" (who had spent the night in the airport) said when I reappeared. A quaint camaraderie and solidarity can develop when you languish together over an extended period, chatting, laughing, grumbling, dozing...and with that may come a level of trust, when one stranger can say to another 'I'm coming back' - meaning "watch my bags' or 'keep my seat for me while I go to KFC/Church's/Rituals/Roya
