Up until 6:00 AM yesterday morning, I had successfully avoided setting foot on an airplane of any kind since 1996 when I flew out to the Left Coast to deal with the death of my mother. I was not and still am not afraid of flying. I just hate the whole process. A childhood spent logging untold passenger hours in the belly of an Air Force C-47, the Goony Bird, soured me early on the magic of flight.
Flying has always been a hassle, but I guess now, with all the stepped up security, sardine seating, and bags of peanuts that yield single digit numbers, Flying has entered a totally new dimension of travel Hell. For the last decade I have listened to the horror stories. Outwardly, I appeared sympathetic and full of "Gee that sucks" comments and all the while really thinking, "Better you than me".
I was beginning to believe I was going to hit the grave without having to fly ever again. Right....... As soon as my daughter found a job teaching at Xavier University in Cincinnati, my wife hatched plans to visit. Being the dumass husband I am, I innocently agreed that we should head south as soon as we both could spare some time. Little did I know, my darling significant other was scheming to make me take this trip via the friendly skies with some low cost, buy way ahead plane tickets from the masters of cattle car flying, Southwest Airlines. Any dreams of reliving my truckin glory days with a spin on the super-slabs of America's Heartland were crushed before I could even begin wet dreaming them.
So yesterday at 3:35 AM, my wife and I climbed in the Ford Ranger and headed to the Manchester Airport to catch that cheap flight leaving for Cincinnati at 6:00 AM.
I have lived most of my life since my truckin days in my own time zone I call Crum Time. As I hit Sam Page road at the end of the drive, I said, "Well, we seem to be gettin an early start." BA just looked at me with that "you asshole" stare.
"What?......... Look it's 3:30.......... " The "you asshole" stare continued. "Hey now, if we were on Crum Time we'd have 15 more minutes to start out late." In my mind we were on time, even a tad early for my tastes.
I didn't hear her. I should have left well enough alone. Instead I said, "What? I didn't hear you."
Louder now. "It is 3 fuckin thirty five. I don't consider that early or even close to on time. But I'm used to it now........... Just drive."
Oops. Never tease a grumpy bear.
More to come...........................
PS - I am using an old laptop my wife gave me. I has no mouse, just a swipe spot. Between that and the new configuration the existing program displays, I have yet learned how to include images. I had a good one, but well, better to publish now than lose the moment.