A flight attendant at the Anaheim Hilton was vomiting. The call arrived at seven a.m. on a Friday, and Anaheim is forty miles away. I hate creeping in rush hour traffic, so I try to delay those visits for a few hours.
Examining the Sigalert map on my computer, I was surprised to see my freeway route green most of the way, so I left immediately and enjoyed a tolerable drive. Traffic was worse on the way back, but I have more patience after a visit.
I arrived home after ten, tired from driving but in a happy mood. Two housecalls make for a good day. Since I’m paid extra for long trips, I had earned my quota and could pass the time without feeling disappointed if no more calls arrived. I had changed out of my suit when the phone rang.
“A flight attendant at the Anaheim Hilton is vomiting,” said the dispatcher for the airline agency.
“I’ve already seen her.”
“It’s another one.”