“’JET LAG’ MY EYE…THIS IS A HANGOVER!”
TRAVELS 2007
By April 14th, 2007 the plans were made (see emails in addendum) and Dan Ratzlaff and my daughter, Asia, loaded me up in Dan’s car and we headed off to Kansas City. Because of the way I feel about travel by airplane, they rode in the front while I was securely wrapped in burlap and jute rope and stashed in the “boot”.
Such as it is, the Kansas weather got us off to a great start (as alluded to in the emails). After an early spring with temperature already at or near the 80 degree mark, we saw record setting lows way down in the 20’s the week before I left, which of course knocked the stuffing out of the early flora. Since then there had been something of a temperature rebound and then suddenly, the night before departure, it started to snow! It snowed and it snowed and, you know the rest of it. By morning we had nearly 6 inches (the western part of the state had as much as 13 inches!)
Of course, in my usual delusional paranoid way, I immediately assumed our flight would be cancelled.
So, we left hearth and home in Emporia at 1:30 in the afternoon, the snow already half gone and melting rapidly, and arrived in Kansas City a couple of hours later.
A friend of the Bean family, Marvin Mathewson had been somehow hoodwinked into inviting Bill and me to spend the night before our flight at his house in Gladstone. We located the house, but it didn’t look like Marvin was home so we headed for the local Applebee’s™ for a rather tall and frothy amber-colored beverage which the locals refer to as “suds”.
We headed back to Marvin’s, found him at home indeed, introduced ourselves and sat around looking at each other while we waited for his Highness, Mr. Bean to arrive, which he did in good time. After a brief chit-chat Asia and Dan headed back to Emporia and the three of us loaded up in Marvin’s B-I-G truck and headed off to pick up Bill’s grandson Trey (which is not how he spells it, but it’s the only way the computer will let me type it).
We hung around Trey’s apartment for half an hour or so then we headed off to Jack Stack’s BBQ for a very nice dinner, courtesy of our Mr. Bill.
We were ready to camp out and so returned to Gladstone. Marvin’s home is particularly nice, new and, at least to me, very plush. Bill and I had separate rooms and bathrooms, and we were snug in our respective beds by 11. Surprisingly, considering I am neurotic to begin with and was preparing to travel eleventy thousand miles the next day, I slept well.
April 15th, I was up before 7 and, eventually when the other lay-abouts made it up, Marvin kindly fixed us a very fine breakfast and then drove us to MCI, which is the acronym for Kansas City’s Mid Continent International Airport.
I had no real hassle with checking in but they nearly beat poor Bill bloody with their little wand, refusing to believe, apparently, that his “magic” knees were actually add-ons.
Taking a cue from the fellow in front of me I simply (and wisely) took off my belt, boots, everything but my trousers, socks, shirt & “smalls” and put everything else into the plastic bin for scanning. Unfortunately for Mr. Bean, he could not remove his knees, at least not without considerable effort and, I would imagine, substantial pain so he was destined to suffer the outrageous slings and arrows of the security goons. Eventually they let poor Bill go, but only after threatening him repeatedly with a cattle prod and the stern admonition to not cause them any more grief with his fancy-smantzy, highfalutin kneecaps.
I paid $3.80 for a 20 oz. bottle of Coke®, Bill scavenged a newspaper from an empty seat (so he claims, I’m not sure he didn’t nick it from a blind newsboy) and we settled into a relatively pleasant, albeit mind-numbing, 2 hour wait. We decided to have a snack before departure, I bought a thimble full of yogurt for $1.75, a muffin the size of a bumblebee for $2.25, but Mr. Healthy-Man decided that he should have the fruit bowl which consisted of a plastic container of 3 cubes of honeydew melon, 2 squares of cantaloupe, a grape, an apple seed and a bit of banana peel for the low, low price of $5.74, which I gladly paid for and hardly mentioned it to Bill (no more than 10 or perhaps 11 times, pointing out that my grandmother bought a week’s worth of groceries for less, but that, no, I didn’t begrudge him his precious fruit and his highfalutin’ ways …and yes, that’s twice I’ve used the word “highfalutin” in a single page. Actually, now it’s been 3 times…)
When it came time to board the plane we were walking down that detachable tin shed/tunnel device when I noticed the pilot was right behind me. I turned to him and said, “Hello. How long have you been doing this? And please DON’T tell me that this is your first day!…”
Of course this got lots of laughs from the other passengers and he must’ve enjoyed my playful jibe as well as he did not crash the plane.
Which, as it turns out from the comfort level side of things, might not have been such a bad choice on his part.
Bill and I sat together on the commuter flight to Dallas(McDonnell-Douglas MD-80) all the while Bill mumbling something about just his luck to get stuck “next to a fat man…” and the flight progressed to the conclusion of the first leg of our destination toots-suite.
At Dallas we took the shuttle rail to the terminal we needed and there I flagged down a little fellow named Khumar who agreed to drive us to wherever it was we needed to go in his cool little electric cart, which he drove with great enthusiasm and pride, frequently shouting out “tootle-tootle” or “beep-beep” to strollers straying into his path. He saved us a lot of walking and we were relaxed in our chairs at our gate by 3 pm with plenty of time to spare before our next (alleged) re-departure at 5:05.
(While meandering about I noticed huge bottles of cola for a mere $2.25, the lesson here being that if you are at MCI and gasping for a cold, highly caffeinated and carbonated soft drink, you will save yourself more than a few cents by flying to Dallas for it.)
I was exceedingly hungry and will admit to stopping off at a McDonalds™ for an order of “fries” for $1.83. I will also tell you, perfectly honestly and with a straight face, that I have never had a finer packet of French-fried , potatoes anywhere in the United States. No kidding, they were primo.
So, after considerably soul-search and consideration, I had a second order and, yes, they were every bit as good. Perhaps even better. (more…)