XNA On the ground - Bentonville and the Next Day

A full day in Bentonville Arkansas is in my plans today. Our Van time is 1730 CDT with one leg back to Newark at 18:22 and we’re done. We should get in after ten and I should be walking through my door sometime around midnight.  I’m awake early after sleeping well in the Mainstay Suites. Stepping outside the hotel, I Yelp for Breakfast restaurants and find Denny’s a scant .2 miles away. Following the directions from my phone, I look around and am amazed that aside from the heat and the lack of terrain, I could be in Elmira New York, a city I have recently overnighted in where the hotel is surrounded by most of the same businesses. 

Someone somewhere must have created a formula, a recipe perhaps, which details complimentary business pairings. Elmira, Peroia, Green Bay, Jacksonville, all cities I have visited in the past months along with countless other communities across the nation have embraced a pad mall retail structure. These are prevalent off of exit ramps along America's interstate highway system. 

As I walk towards Denny’s I smile remembering it was my Dad’s favorite place, precisely because of an ingredient in this business recipe. Dad loved Denny’s because he was a traveller, an early road warrior, traversing the nation during the 60’s and 70’s in search of opportunity riding the expanding Eisenhower Interstate Highway. As such he would eschew local culture in exchange for consistency. There are no surprises at a Denny’s, no matter where you go the menu is exactly the same. You’ll never experience greatness at a Denny’s yet you’ll rarely be disappointed by bad. Howard Johnsons and Holiday Inns tapped this vein originally.   

Yet as I approach Denny’s I spy a Cracker Barrel. I think of how similar I am to my Dad. This is my place, not for the food but the general store on the way in, filled with  cheap gifts a travelling person might feel compelled to buy someone they are missing or going to visit. Rather then go to Denny’s I walk into the Cracker Barrel

The customers at 1030 am are predominately senior citizens traveling by auto, somewhere on their own schedule, presumably beckoned here by 100 miles of strategically placed billboards keeping them apprised of their progress as they hurtle down the road to the rhythmic thump of the expansion joints.

I am seated at my table and meet my server, a young woman with a cute face, yet a bad complexion and slightly crooked teeth.  I think how if her face was a little clearer, and the extra confidence that would bring she could likely be working at the Boar’s nest across the street, getting better tips. I’m sure this isn’t her only job and she doesn’t fit in with the matronly older folks that typically staff the Cracker Barrel.  I give her my order and ask her to direct me to the rest room. The walk and the multiple coffees I’ve already consumed are making their presence known and I make a beeline in the direction she pointed towards.

A towering elderly man in the doorway of the restroom is blocking my passage as his bride of many years positions herself on his side that is opposite his cane, assisting him as he carefully maneuvers out of the doorway and into the store filled with products carefully selected by specialists, to remind him of his youth- when he needed no cane and had his pick of young woman happy to be at his hand.

"Good morning sir" I say cognizant that my New York City pace towards the men's room has startled him a bit. As I slowed up to wait for him to vacate the passage I continued with "It’s going to be a great day but a little hot for my taste". His wife smiles meekly as he booms back "who cares" in his best "get off my lawn" tenor.

The New Yorker in me was about to say something equally as rude but I thought  about how difficult it must be, requiring assistance from your wife to use the men’s room. I mean this guy was a giant, probably six foot six, his cane was as tall as my chest. Yet he was slow moving and deliberate the way someone is when they don’t have their equilibrium, are fearful, and aware of how far a fall could set them back. Years ago this guy could have squashed me like a bug, probably tossed his bride around the dance floor (and the bedroom) like a rag doll, now taking several minutes to leave the shitter after taking a leak. 


It's funny how time changes us. We go from weak to strong and to weak again, physically, mentally and most of us financially. How we deal with that in our minds is likely instrumental on how we adapt to our inevitable change in circumstance. 

XNA Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport

We arrived at 930PM on Sunday Night making up almost all of the delay we had accumulated throughout the day.  As we were taxiing in we heard another plane from our airline being cleared to land and saw them pulling up at an adjacent gate as we were packing up.

As the Captain was calling the hotel to send a van to pick us up I motioned to the other plane and said “I betcha they will time the van to get both crews at the same time”.  That’s always a drag, to wait for ground transportation when you’re done, but even more so at the end of a long day.

We starred towards the terminal exit and I was amazed that a man of his size could walk so briskly, over such a long distance.  When we arrived at the pickup spot there were hotel vans for the southwest and envoy crews but ours was absent. The captain was clearly disappointed that the rush to the parking lot was in vain, and looking back towards the terminal the other crew was rounding the corner. Amazingly our van showed up simultaneously with the other crew.

Pleasantries were exchanged and we assisted the van driver with loading our bags and headed to the hotel.  I sat in the middle row and from behind me a young pretty flight attendant asked the driver what was open around the hotel on a Sunday night.

 He ran through the litany of fast food joints that surrounded the hotel to which she scoffed “I’m thirsty for some alcohol, anyplace where we can get a drink with our food”

He suggested The Boar’s Nest, which was in the plaza adjacent to the hotel. We all agreed to meet in the lobby in ten minutes. In the elevator I asked my crew whether they would be joining us and true to form they all declined. I changed quickly and headed downstairs grabbing one of the beers out of my bag to drink in the lobby as I waited.

The FO showed first. We didn’t really recognize each other for a few seconds as we were only acquainted while in uniform. He carried the room supplied Styrofoam coffee cup with the cover with a ripped square out of it.  I assumed it wasn’t coffee, and he nodded towards my bud light. We chatted about the hotel and show times briefly while we waited for the flight attendant to show.  A few minutes later she made an entrance.

I’d be lying if I told you she was anything other than stunning, dressed in a skin tight, low cut, light grey top that extended quarter way down her thighs, emblazoned with a Jack Daniels Honey logo. Under that was the sheerest tight cream colored skirt you can imagine, under that a pair of capri length black tights. Her hair was down from her FA garb and with fresh lipstick she had transformed from a coworker into a beautiful woman.

We headed next door to the bar, which had a phalanx of patrons milling around outside the front door satisfying their alcohol enhanced nicotine cravings. On entering we settled at the end of the bar where a tall pretty barmaid in daisy duke shorts and a midriff baring cleavage enhancing floral top drawled “what kin I getcha all” .

The business was a few store units combined to make a restaurant and bar and as such had an expansive feel.  The bar was a large two U configuration where the closed section of the U was square not rounded with a twenty foot section joining the protrusions. It wasn’t really busy, but you could see that when it was the place jammed on the far end of the bar there was a divider with a couple pool tables. Looking around there were groups of people at the bar and in booths and tables lining the perimeter of the building.

There was a crop of diverse people varying from extremely well nourished to tweaker thin. The men wore t-shirts cargo shorts and timberlands or flip-flops, all with branded ball caps. The women regardless of size showed way too much skin, the thinner ones were also adorned with mosaic-like tattoo's usually covering large swaths of their bodies.

Two such couples were sitting off to our left, a pair of big burly men out for an evening with their ladies of equal size and stature. Their proximity to each other, and ease at being so, made it clear that their spatial boundaries had already been breached by intimacy

I ordered a Heineken and my associates ordered draft beers which came in quart mason jars. I took the opportunity to introduce myself to my coworkers, “I’m Sean, from Connecticut, I’ve been here for going on two years”. John and Candy were their names John from south of Burlington Vermont a three-year veteran and Candy from Bayonne New Jersey.  “Caramel Candy”, she corrected and “I’ve been here for twelve years”. I mentioned that she must have broken some child labor laws coming to work as a teenager and she flashed me a brilliant smile.

Around the bar everyone already had or was still consuming industrial quantities of alcohol served in quart sized mason jars.

Burley dude on the right yells across the bar to Caramel Candy “Do you work for Jack Daniels, cause I really like Jack Daniels”.  He gets no response so he asks again even louder “Excuse me miss but do you work for Jack Daniels like is says on your shirt?”. I mention to Candy that he was addressing her. She says nonchalantly “ No but I do some modeling for them from time to time and they let me keep the clothes”. Burley guy is emboldened “Then let’s do a shot of Jack Daniels, I’ll buy” With that the bartender is summoned and a conversation ensues about which variety of Jack Daniels they are going to consume together. Candy says very coyly “I only drink the honey” which Burley guy assumes is a double entendre.

Candy and Burly down their shots while the three of us try to talk about work, our lives at home, our schedules. The two of them have an advantage, this is day three and they’ve been out two nights already, so while they continue talking about their trip and captain I’m checking out the bar, the people and the goings on in Bentonville.

My crew slam clicked the entire journey which is the sound you hear when they enter their rooms at the end of the day.  Door Slams and Lock Clicks and you see them again when its time to meet the van that takes you back to the airport. Its not a problem for me as I’m pretty gregarious and usually can find a good time regardless of where I find myself.

All of this is rattling through my head when Candy leans towards me and tells me that Burly is staring at her, and while she is used to getting her share of men’s attention, his lady friend is staring at her now too. John starts saying that we’ve got her back and if anything starts up we’ll be sure to defend her. Myself, I’m not that chivalrous but I don’t say anything. Meanwhile the Burly’s have asked for their check and I’m surprised to see that our shot buying friend’s significant other is picking up the tab. I mention it to Candy and John and Candy starts in on how any man that she’s with wouldn’t dare buy another girl a shot at the bar while she was there and if he did, he’d be lonely and fuck him if he thought she’s be paying for another woman’s liquor.

I realized it was time for me to go and I motioned to the Daisy Duke Barmaid  to bing me my check, left the bar and headed to my room.