Travelin' Fools

Travelin’ Fools

George and I are basic travel virgins. Local trips, a cruise,  a few flights. That’s it! Our positive travel experiences ended a couple years ago when we flew up to Illinois to visit family and attend my high school reunion. We entered Travel Hell on _________ Airlines. (I don’t like to be a name-dropper but I will tell you that it rhymes with “Hear it!”

Once “Hear It!” dropped us off at O’Hare airport, they wanted nothing more to do with us. Ever! On the day of our return flight, they did not come back to get us. They abandoned a planeload of passengers  at the airport for 12 hours, leaving us there to grouse and complain and rile up other passengers. The plane had a mechanical failure. No one else came to get us!  Were all the planes infected with mechanical failure? The tune“que sera, sera!” played out in my mind throughout the day. By the time we got home, despite our lovely parting gifts of worthless vouchers for a future free flight on “Hear It!” Airlines, we knew we were not going to fly on them again. We had learned something.

But we had another chance to be real travelers. This time it was for a family event, the graduation of my daughter-in-law, Ashlee, who graduated (with honors, I might add) from the University Of Louisville this past weekend. I scheduled the flights, being careful not to schedule any “Hear It!” flights. I was going with my old standby, “Smelta” Airlines. Unfortunately Louisville is not exactly the hub of the universe so there were no direct flights. OK, we were flexible. Alas, the morning of the flight I awoke with acute vertigo, a chronic condition that makes me walk somewhat like a drunken sailor. George now had 2 rolly suitcases, 1 heavy computer bag, and 3 bags to carry on, plus a drunken wife sailor.  The smile faded from his face pretty early on. The skycap took one look at me as he checked in our baggage and a wheelchair magically appeared. They whisked me away, not so good for the vertigo but rather like a roller coaster ride. George, unfortunately, was loping along behind, carrying whatever they could not store on my lap. So we were feeling pretty positive about how things were going. “Smelta” was taking good care of us so far.

Our first flight left FLL at 7:35 AM to go to Atlanta. At Atlanta we would have 1 hour, and on to Louisville. We planned to arrive at Louisville in time to get our rental car and take Cory and Ashlee out to lunch. We were excited. But it was not to be. North of Orlando,  the pilot told us that the cabin air pressure was not right and we had to go back to Orlando. He was hopeful that they could make an adjustment and once again be on our way. But it was not to be. All passengers were deplaned and there was a frantic sea of defunct travelers all attacking the red-jacketed people who were unfortunate enough to be there at the moment we arrived in Orlando.

Oh, and did I mention that this was Mother’s Day weekend? And the weekend of a million college graduations? Seems that you might want to avoid traveling on that weekend.

Announcement: “For those of you who are worried about catching a connecting flight, there is another flight for Atlanta leaving in 45 minutes. There are 100 seats available.”

 There was a stampede of people much more agile than us, a stampede the size of the Cabbage Patch Doll Run one Christmas. The seats were taken by extremely fast people before we could blink.

The cabin pressure problems made our previous plane inoperable and it never did resume flight that day.

We spent most of the day in Orlando. We finally got out to Atlanta and then Louisville at 10 pm. Such bad luck, you say. Wouldn’t you think we would be due for some better luck on the way home? We were more philosophical now. “Smelta” had given us 100.00 worth in flight credit so we felt loved and valued.

On Monday, our day to go home, we arrived at about 7:30 am at the Louisville airport. Once again I am met with a wheelchair, since I still have dizzy spells. We happily get on our “Smelta” plane and start to taxi. Then…the announcement.

“Uh, we are going to go back to the terminal. There seems to be a hydraulic leak. Now it could be that the mechanic can just adjust it and we will be good to go (Where had I heard that before?) but we need to check it out. Stay seated while we call the mechanic.”

Then…”The mechanic will not be here for about 30-45 minutes.”

Then… “I am going to ask you to deplane since it would not be good for you to smell hydraulic fluid.” We are grateful for his concern.

This time George sprang into action and got us on a later flight just in case. Unfortunately it was not until 6:30 pm. We had the rest of the day to chill. Finally we were flown to Atlanta. Our flight disembarked on one continent and our connecting flight was on another. Atlanta airport is a crazy place. It was a freakin’ city for Pete’s sake. They stuck me in a wheelchair again, rolled me at warp speed to a train car like at Disney and shoved me inside while the car moved at super speed. I hope not to have to go anywhere else in that metropolis airport.

We get to our gate and have 2 more delays. One because the plane is late and one because the stewardesses have not arrived. The plane is supposed to leave at 10:05 but the stewardess team is on a flight from Pittsburgh. They have to deplane the passengers at 10:00, speed to our airplane and get us all on the plane, still smiling. I organized a team of volunteers ready to act as stewardesses if it would help. One young man, Jacob, offered to perform the safety lesson and I was positive I could pass out pretzels if my vertigo would calm down a bit. We could wing it.

The stewardesses finally arrived, negating the need for our help. We were ready to board. Everyone seemed quite calm except Important Guy. You know him. The one who is most inconvenienced by all of this.  You can easily tell who’s the most important one. 1. They walk in important strides. 2. They have a scowly look on their face. 3. They have a phone piece permanently attached to their ear. 4. They show great impatience with people who do not understand how terribly urgent their business is. 5. They are rude to the people trying to help.  (He told them they were just a bunch of “red jackets.”) Really?

So we saw the best of human nature and the worst of human nature. All I can say is I’m glad to be home. We arrived home at 1 PM, very glad to not have any more immediate flights in our future.

Our collection of boarding passes, just from this trip!

Never travel without your rubber chicken.

      OMG you are going to say. A post from Jeanne Kraus! Where has she been? Well, I am back and hopefully will continue to be. What dragged me out again? 

                             Resignation To The Way Things Are.

     I was at a party the other day and one of the guests remarked that it was nice and noteworthy that there was no one busy on their cell phone, no one texting, not one had even taken their phone out during the day. And we were talking with each other. Of course this was a get-together for baby boomer aged adults, and no one under 45 was invited.

     I reflected on that comment. It was true. We all focused on each other, and had no use for the cell phones that often take over today's get-togethers.

     For the first time though, I sort of understand it. I agree that I liked it better when we all talked, played games, interacted, but the world has changed. And we are sounding a bit like our parents, “What’s the matter with you listening to that long hair beatle music and watching that whipper-snapper twist his hips?” The truth is, we don’t like the current social groups because we are not used to them, we did not grow up with them, and our way is always the best.

     So I am trying to understand the fascination with the games online, and the tweeting and the texting and the emailing. And I admit there is something magical about texting your son and having him come on in about a minute and less and answer your comment. So its not all bad, just different.

            

                 But here’s my top ten of irritations of the cell phone age.

1

        People talking on cell phones in restaurants while their family sits quietly  by, waiting for them to finish. Nearby tables are also waiting.

        People who HAVE to answer their call, even if they are in line to pay for their groceries and do the whole process juggling groceries, car keys, credit card and phone.

       People who talk on speaker phones in public so you can REALLY hear everything.

       People in meetings who always have have to take phone calls during the meeting. Their ring tones are loud renditions of marching sounds that will forever play out in my brain as earworms.

      People who totally ignore signs in Dr. offices, asking for all cell phones to be turned off.

    People who are on the cellphone as they are driving. (cars, bikes, what-not)

    People who are on the cellphone as they have "quality" time with their child.

    People who wear earpieces on their ears permanently because their calls are extremely important.

         People who are texting while you are having a conversation with them.

    Trying to pretend that you do not hear the intimate conversation going on with the stranger next to you.

     So don't misunderstand. I have a cell phone and I know how to use it. Well, sort of. Most of it is a mystery. You won't see me carry it everywhere with me because there is rarely anything of that importance that cannot wait. The best things about cell phones?

     You don't have to get out of the car to find a phone booth.

     You don't have a party line.

     There is no cord attached to them!

     And they come in more than just basic black.    

     

Perspective!

Perspective

     What happens as we get older? To our perspective, I mean. It appears that judgement is clouded at certain times in your life. I remember in middle school wearing a hot pink A-line skirt (just below the knee). I paired it with a beige blouse with the ever-so-popular roll-up sleeves of the 60s. I wore it over and over, convinced that it was really cool. As was my Ben Casey blouse. Now I realize that someone should have taken it and burned it when I wasn't looking.

  

     As a young lady, the only hair color that I liked was to put auburn highlights in my dark brown hair. Never considered anything else. When the current palette of colors came out, I thought they were way out there. Kids sported them and then I started to see adults adding on other colors to their hair. Now, I find myself thinking that those little purple or blue streaks are kind of pretty. Not that it would work for me, I am sticking to basic gray.

     When braces came out in coordinating colors, I was taken aback. Braces should be functional, not a fashion statement. Now I find myself prodding children, "And what color are your braces?"

 But the most evident of my attitude change was toward tattoos. I have always been a tattoo avoider. I always believed that if your kids grew up without a variety of rings piercing various parts of their bodies, and without tattoos, that maybe they have safely made it to adulthood. When my youngest got a tattoo on his arm, it changed my 

perspective. Why? It was a really meaningful thing to him and it was beautiful, like artwork. Not that I really want him to go out and tat the rest of his body, but I can handle this one. 

     When I think of all the fads I lived through, it seems that what is going on today is just more of the same. Beehives, flips and pageboys, hot pants, bell bottoms, mullets and mohawks( eesh!) all played their parts in my younger days. 

    I just wish....the low sagging pants would go away. I'm over seeing the boxer shorts of every teen in town. Pull em up guys. Save our eyesight.

I don't want to be a buttinsky but why?

Pee to Be You and Me

The holidays are over and we are trying to get back to normal. After my Daughter in Law Number #1 noted that our place looks like an episode on Hoarders, we have continued our efforts to empty the extra crap we have from trying to meld two houses into one. It is a painstaking job. Especially in getting George to throw stuff out or sell it.
"Well, what is this big black thing under the bed?" I ask.
"Oh that is my guitar."
I stare at him unblinkingly. "Guitar? You have a guitar? I have known you for 15 years and I never knew you had a guitar? Do you think maybe we could find a new home for it?"
No answer, but the guitar is tucked more firmly under the bed where I cannot see it without getting into  one of those pretzel formations with my body.

Fortunately, Jeff, my son, and I believe in improving our minds when we are together. Our catalyst this year was that his wife ordered asparagus for dinner when we went out.  Of course this started the "Why does asparagus make your pee smell funny?" We found out a lot of interesting facts that you will want to know.

1. Post-asparagus odor has been observed for centuries. French novelist Marcel Proust noted that asparagus transformed his chamber-pot into a perfume flask.


2. A British Men's Club also posted a sign that asked members to restrain themselves during the asparagus season and not relieve themselves in the hat stand. Or hats.

3. In 1891 a scientist convinced 4 men to eat 3.5 pounds of asparagus each and measured the smell, determining that there was a chemical that caused the distinct odor.

4. According to WebMD, the issue is not whether your body generates the smell but if you have the special gene that allows you to smell it.

5. Approximately 22% of people have the ability to smell their own asparagus fumes. As stated in nbcnews.com, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, in a great work of modern literature, "Love in the Time of Cholera", wrote..."Even when it was not the season for asparagus, it had to be found regardless of cost so that he could take pleasure in the vapors of his own fragrant urine."

Hmm. I wish to thank my daughter-in-law, Shannon, for inspiring me on this journey of pee discovery. I did not ask her if she was a member of the 22% club when she came back from the restroom. But I suspect she may be.

Family Togetherness at Christmas

I love being with my family at Christmas. We truly have time to talk. The last 2 days I have been having my long-missed philosophical discussions with my oldest son, Jeff, who is now 35 years old. He has definite opinions on everything, most of them contrary to mine.

A half hour discussion emerged because I had confessed to him that I have indeed lost our family rubber chicken, which we pass to each other stealthily, each trying not to be the one to end up with R.C. at the end of the visit. Jeff did not believe me that I had misplaced R.C. and thinks it is a red herring to make him feel confident that he will not need to worry about returning to Orlando with a rubber chicken hidden in his underwear.

Substitute Less Desirable Rubber Chicken

Even when I went out and bought a substitute rubber chicken, a less desirable version, at Party City, yesterday he staunchly refused to believe that the other rubber chicken will somehow find its way aboard his vehicle after Christmas.

But that is not all we talked about. When I mentioned that the rubber chicken's feet looked backward, he told me that is what chicken feet look like. We surfed the net for a good 30 minutes looking at real chicken feet and rubber chicken feet. What do you think?

Missing Rubber Chicken (last photo)

Real Chicken Foot

The Last Garage Sale

Today George and I reached a milestone in our marriage. It was the day of our last garage sale...ever. As we trudged around in the afternoon sun, sweating and toiling we became aware that our wages for said garage sale netted us about 5.00 per hour. Plus I had to miss a tutoring session because of utter exhaustion, which would have netted me much more than the garage sale time I put in. 

And the really sad thing is that we appear to have more crap than when we started. We no longer have any pathway in our garage to walk through. So we are starting our process of recycling, giving away, advertising and leaving it on the curb in case someone will come by and take it from our bulk pick-up. 

But here is the good part. The best part of today was the people we met. Neighbors in our community that I now consider as friends. People from the FreeCycle Network online that were just names to me before. And some surprising behavior. 

When George and I have a garage sale, we truly want to get rid of the stuff. We don't want to haggle, we want it out of there, causing us to put some pretty low prices on stuff, even a free section for our fellow FreeCyclers. That was difficult for people. I would say about 5-7 people refused our low prices and insisted on giving us more. We were giving away a little old table that was scarred and of no use to us. Shopper: How much is this table? George: It is one of our free items. Feel free to take it. Shopper: No, really. How much? George: Please take it. You are doing us a favor. Shopper: I am not doing that. Here's 5.00 for the table. And this happened several more times. It was way cool that people wanted to be fair.

But we still don't want any more garage sales!

Deception

     Now that we have my mother-in-law (MIL) safe and sound we find that we are having to resort to deception more than is comfortable. It is almost as though the crafty lady is finding ways to test our loyalty. Examples of our conversations will show you what I am talking about.
     MIL: "You know those white slippers I have with the leather soles? Bring them next time."
     I assume a look of desperation that I share with George. We just threw these slippers out. They were in disgusting shape and we wanted to get rid of them before they walked out on their own. My response:
     Me: "Oh, I am so sorry. I had to throw them out. The cat peed on them and they were no good. Your cat."

     Then there was... "I will be coming home for Christmas. I have been working hard to eat well and gain weight. I will be fine to come home. I can stay at the house and we will have Christmas dinner together."
     Of course we were planning to come and pick her up for Christmas dinner but we are also planning to bring her back to her new home that evening. After all, we have had to totally redo her bedroom, replacing the carpet with tile and we boxed up her things as best we could.  I am sure she thinks it still has the hospital bed and the potty in the corner.
     When we go visit we are treated to a litany of negative comments, most of which are untrue. 
     Her roommate has a man come in and sleep with her in her bed.
     One of the residents sleeps with a different man each night.

     The nurses are too busy.
     We don't visit enough. Some families come every hour.
     The nurses should do everything for free. It would be right.
     All of the patients speak Latvian (her native language.)
       Last time I was there, I told her that if we were going to come and visit, that she needed to find some positive things to say. This is what she came up with:
     Someone did her hair and nails for her (for free!) Lol.
     She is eating well. She gets to the bathroom herself without needing help.
     Everything is clean there.

     Things are looking up!