I am currently in San Francisco and I had a bizarre experience this morning flying here from Minneapolis. It’s interesting enough to pass along.
First, let me set the scene. My flight departed at 9:15am, which means I was at the airport at 7:45am, which means I was up at 6:45am. Normally, not a big deal, but last night I performed at the Acadia Cafe, didn’t get off the stage until after 1:00am and wasn’t asleep until close to 3:00am. So, needless to say, I was dragging a little when I boarded the flight for San Francisco. Before the plane took off, I was sound asleep, midway back in coach, in seat 27D.
Sometime within the first hour of the flight, the captain came over the intercom and welcomed us all to the flight. His voice woke me up. As he was wrapping up his comments I distinctly heard him say, “And we have a distinguished guest flying in 9D today. Mr. Yo-Yo Ma.” And then, from way up in the first-class section of the plane, I saw Yo Yo Ma lean out into the aisle and give a cordial wave to the coach class masses. One or two people applauded. I was almost instantly asleep again.
An hour or so later (time means nothing to me on planes because my cell phone is off and I don’t wear a watch), I woke up again. This time for reasons related to the amount of liquid I’d consumed at the Acadia Cafe last night. As I unbuckled my seat-belt and stood to check how long the line for the bathroom was at the rear of the plane, I remembered my earlier moment of wakefulness and turned to see if I could spy Yo-Yo Ma. I couldn’t. At least not from where I was standing. I started to have second thoughts about my memory… had I really heard the pilot right? Did I really see Yo-Yo Ma wave from the front of the plane? The pretentious curtain that always hangs between first class and coach was blocking my view. Was there a curtain there before? I decided that the only logical recourse was to walk up to the first class lavatory and kill two birds with one stone. So that’s what I attempted to do. And that’s when things got BIZARRE.
As I approached first class, I could see that the last row was row six, not nine. I definitely remembered hearing the pilot say “a distinguished passenger (…or was it “guest”?) in seat 9D.” Everything seemed more fuzzy now. Could he have said six? No, I was sure he couldn’t have. I turned to see if Mr. Ma was riding in the coach 9D, but the seat didn’t even exist. Between first class and coach was a small galley, and the row numbers skipped from the first class six to the decidedly coach 17.
I reached the dividing curtain. Now I could see that 6D was occupied, but that the passenger had fallen asleep and slumped over into the seat next to theirs, which was unoccupied. Yo-Yo Ma doesn’t strike me as a slumpy sleeper. My doubt grew. I parted the curtain and took a confident “I’m-supposed-to-be-here” stride into the first class section. One more step and I would know if I’d been dreaming. And…
“Sir. You’re not supposed to be in first class.” The flight attendant did not look pleased.
“Um, I was just going to use the bathroom.”
“There’s a perfectly good lavatory in coach.”
“But there’s a long line. I’ll be quick.” I smiled. Maybe my Minnesota charm would win her over.
“Please sir, return to coach.”
“Sure thing.”
I retreated, craning my neck to see if the little cello-genius was really there or not. I couldn’t tell. I used the coach lavatory. I returned to my seat. I slept the rest of the flight.
When the plane finally landed and I was gathering up my backpack and roller bag, I turned to the woman next to me, and said, “Was Yo-Yo Ma on this flight?”
Her response: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s Yo-Yo Ma?”
So… Dream, or, somehow, not?
–Grant Dawson