I lost one of my closest veteran friends, recently. When the Second World War began, Charley Fox left Guelph, Ont., and enlisted in the RCAF. At age 20, he got his wings and then instructed in the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan until 1943.
Overseas, he served as a Spitfire pilot from D-Day to V-E Day. He was twice decorated with the Distinguished Flying Cross. Then, in his retirement years, he quietly fought to have fellow veterans recognized for their service. Last month, he died in a car crash. He was 88.
“Canada and its veterans,” I wrote then, “had no greater friend than Charley Fox.”
Canadian Forces invited me to deliver a eulogy to Charley Fox during a large, public ceremony in Ottawa on Nov. 2. A friend, who had Air Canada passes, booked us on a flight that Sunday morning. Suddenly, however, we learned that Air Canada had cancelled our 11:10 a.m. flight, so we rushed to Pearson International in an attempt to make the earlier 10:10 a.m. flight.
We arrived at 9:30 and joined the queue in front of Air Canada ticket wickets. As we stood there, two of the four agents departed (I guess on breaks) which slowed our progress. At 9:44, we finally reached the head of the line, stepped up to an agent and requested booking on the 10:10 flight.
“The gate’s closed,” she said. “You’re four minutes too late.”
I explained that I was expected to speak at the memorial of a close veteran friend in Ottawa. Could she not see how important it was that I get there? “Surely, the airline has compassion for this kind of situation,” I pleaded.
“You’re late. The gate’s closed. You can’t board this flight,” she said definitively.
I wish I’d had the presence of mind to point out that we had stood in line prior to the 9:40 gate closure for nearly 10 minutes, and that our delay was extended not because of our tardiness, but because half the Air Canada agent staff at that counter had departed while we waited. But in my disappointment and anger that explanation didn’t occur to me.
At any rate, my friend and I decided to try to make the 12:10 p.m. flight. If we did, we could still make the memorial in time. We went to the back of the line and waited again. As we stood there, the remainder of the agent staff all went on break. There were now NO ticket agents available at the counter. When a customer service representative near the kiosks realized the problem, she moved into a ticket position and – Horatio at the bridge – began processing passengers. She informed us that the 12:10 flight was overbooked, but that our standby chances were good.
We entered our names for the 12:10 flight. I had three small boxes needed at the memorial and booked them aboard the 12:10 plane.
“If I don’t make it on that flight, what happens to the boxes?” I asked.
“If you don’t get aboard, they won’t be put on the plane,” she said.
Then, my friend and I sat and waited anxiously for two hours. All the while, I kept thinking about the Canadian Forces people expecting my participation in the ceremony. I thought of Charley Fox’s family, anticipating my arrival to join in the tribute to a true Canadian hero, a man who’d thought little of himself – in wartime or in peace – but of serving his King, his country and his comrades-in-arms. Of course, when it came time for the 12:10 passengers to board the plane, my friend and I were not among them. We would not be going to Ottawa this day.
When I recovered from the disappointment of missing yet another flight, I retreated to the baggage claim area to retrieve my boxes. A younger agent called upon an Air Canada supervisory person to help find them. She arrived moments later.
“It’s a domestic flight. Baggage always goes through on a domestic flight,” she said. Then she added curtly, “You should know that.”
I stood there incredulous. Not only had Air Canada cancelled our flight. It had then prevented our taking an earlier plane because it claimed we were four minutes late when agent scheduling was responsible for our delay. Then it had bumped us from the last opportunity to get to my friend’s memorial. Then, insult to injury, Air Canada told me that I should know its domestic policy requires bags to fly even if their owners don’t.
No. I’m sorry, Air Canada, but your policy book needs rewriting. And right there, at the top – along with acknowledging the privilege of bearing our national symbol – its mission should state a belief in courtesy, compassion and consistency.
Charley Fox lived by such traits. Without men like him, Air Canada wouldn’t even exist.
