To my 17 loyal readers, my
apologies, it’s been a strange and distracting summer, and I haven’t been able
to capture and share my thoughts. This is my best attempt to jump back into the blog-o-sphere.
It can hardly be a
coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the expression
"As pretty as an airport." (Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective
Agency, by Douglas Adams)
Let’s face it; nothing brings you down faster from the high
of a trip than an airport. It’s a bookend fact of life. You’re
excited to go somewhere, but you have to start at the airport. If you don’t
score the TSA pre-check, you are forced to shed clothing, get a body scan and
re-dress in a recombobulation area (a real place at MKE). This causes me quite
a bit of stress when I’m traveling with Dan, who is always “two foops from
naked”. He’s always ready to foop, foop, naked and “any other questions." I choose another line; I do not know him at TSA. And then, days later, your wonderful trip is over and you return to the airport. Delays, or sprints between gates to catch the connecting
flight. If you miss your connection, or the flight home is cancelled, enjoy
the $12 dinner voucher and 4 hours of sleep at an airport hotel. Delightful.
Most recently, Dan and I took off in separate directions. He
left on a Friday to fly to PHL via ORD; a trip to help the kids determine if a
house was worth consideration. He arrived at MKE 90 minutes prior to takeoff.
The first flight was uneventful. The second flight from ORD to PHL was delayed
eight times. He tells me he led two of the three passenger uprisings, and scored
free drinks for the entire plane when it finally took off over 9 hours late. Go
Dan. I took a business trip to MCO via IAH, with a return through CLT back to
MKE. On both the outbound and return I had to sprint to a new terminal and find
the gate at the farthest possible distance from my starting point. Cardio.
I know why blue hairs drive Lincolns (we are a Ford family).
They can sit on a rolling couch for a few hours a day; barely driving with the cruise
control on and listen to talk radio. They are retired, they can take weeks to
arrive calmly at a destination, with 20 stops along the way at a Waffle House,
or Cracker Barrel, or iHOP, or some other nasty chain restaurant. The can check
into any number of hotels off the interstate, with their AAA and AARP discount
cards. They can avoid the painful waits in ugly airports with overpriced drinks,
mediocre food and plastic ware. Their blood pressure stays normal as a delay in
their trip is by choice, and they don’t have to put their heart meds to the
test on a sprint between gates.
I’ve always said that the only requirement for us
to relocate is that we are within reasonable distance from an airport, able to
reach our children quickly. But, the more time we spend in airports, I wonder,
perhaps we just need to be close to a Lincoln dealer.
Music that resonates:
Hot Rod Lincoln - Commander Cody
