I'm All Lost in the Supermarket

There was one more episode about the New York trip that I forgot to disclose - mainly because I was hoping it was just a nightmare which would pass like bad gas in the morning. But it didn't. At LaGuardia getting ready to board the flight home, YHWH lost her organizer. Nothing big really, just her driver's license, health card, credit card, and other sparkling gems of the identity theft gold mine. She didn't realize it until the next morning, and so we weren't sure where it was lost - or stolen. I had just been to a short workshop on i.d. theft and so I was sure the prospects were pretty grim. So that first day back, YHWH cancelled all the cards and notified the credit agencies and got the defensive ball rolling. Meanwhile we turned every pocket, every bag inside out hoping it was stashed somewhere. All airport and airline lost-and-founds were called fruitlessly.

Everyone had a theory. YHWH's sister was sure that it was stolen from her purse at O'Hare. In fact, she recreated an entire narrative in which she selected a half dozen swarthy immigrants who worked in the food court and had been taking a break nearby as the perps in this crime drama of her own making. Sadly, this is a woman who doesn't get out much and her world view is largely formed by the local news. To me it just didn't add up. Mainly because they didn't have two key crime elements: motive or opportunity. And because I think profiling is really pathetic.

YHWH thought the missing piece was flung from the underseat nest of her purse when our tiny jet made a rather abrupt touchdown and overbraked to a stop on the runway at Will Rogers in OKC. As to its current whereabouts, she had no answer and by the end of the day I ruled that one out because the cleaning crew sweeping in after our departure would have picked it up and if they were going to turn it in we would've known by the end of that next day, they being local and all.

I, however, knew what happened although I could not say where exactly the organizer was. When we got to LaGuardia we had to check our bags at the curb. The airlines now charge two dollars a bag for this. It was really chaotic at the checkstand, so I gave YHWH $12 for our five bags and her sister's and then took the girls inside the terminal to try and thin out the crowd on the curb. Apparently, the baggageman took the $12 and said, "This is for the airline. Now another $12 for me." YHWH didn't have it so her sister had to crack open her wallet; this was its virginal opening on the trip I'm pretty sure. I mention this because I think this was the first of a succession of mental distractions for YHWH, who is very easily distracted. So, after the bags are gone, her sister tells her we owe her $10 for the bags. OK, she stayed at our house, our friend took us to the airport, I paid the $12 in OKC to have the bags loaded, I bought her two drinks, she doesn't spend one dime on the whole trip, I had just paid the $12 to the airline and not only will she not get the tip, she prorates it. This took YHWH aback and rattled her a little bit. Understand, it's not the money, it's the principle.

We then proceed to the TSA line to get screened and all of a sudden the line gets really chaotic and some heavily armed dude shows up and starts rerouting people through other lines. And this isn't like three parallel lines. This arrangement looks like that universal symbol for USB ports you see on computers. Anyway, in a scene out of a Holocaust movie, before I know it, right in front of my eyes, Killer gets pushed into a line by herself and YHWH and I get pushed to another and the sister and C.F. Kats to another. I can't even see Killer from where I am and this SWAT-looking guy with a machine gun is in my way. I decided to just get through the line as fast as I can and keep an eye on that line. Unfortunately, the reason for the commotion is in our line. YHWH and I turn a corner and there at the conveyor belt are two young women with a baby and two freakin' cats. These idiots were bringing cats as freakin' carry-ons! And the cats were not having any of it. Do they not know people who can feed their damn cats at home? Mind you, they have shoes all over the floor, their bags aren't zipped up, nothing is in baskets - it's a g-d TSA training video is what it is. And all I know is I can't see my child. So, one woman carries a cat through the metal detector. She has to wait for the cat's bag to go through the scanner and then fights with the cat to stuff it into a bowling-type bag. Then she tries to go back for the other cat, but the TSA lady stops her and says you can't go back through once you've passed. The baby is, of course, crying it's head off by now. The TSA lady tells the other lady to come through with the cat, but she says she can't leave the baby!! So we're at an impasse. No way, they claim, will they put the cat through the scanner thing. And the TSA lady is stumped. So finally I say, "Just carry them both, lady! The cat and the baby!" Everybody just stopped and looked at each other. YHWH was not looking too good. Very frustrated. At that point I just walked up to detector and went through without looking back, praying I wouldn't beep. I grabbed all my stuff of the conveyor belt and frantically searched for Killer. There she was, sitting on a bench putting her shoes on like nothing ever happened. Looking back at the scene I'd left behind I saw that YHWH had cleared and then I saw another SWAT guy approaching - with a big German Shepherd on a leash. Wouldn't want to be there when the dog showed up.

So, I think she lost her organizer there because she had to get it out to show her ID to the TSA people and I think she got so frazzled that she left it around there. For the last two weeks we heard nothing about it and I was pretty sure YHWH was in denial about it. And then today she got a small, thick envelope with no return address and a postage due stamp on it. It was the innards of her organizer, apparently unmolested. Where it was found, who found it, where the actual organizer is, we do not know. Might have been one of those cat women. Might have been one of those boys at O'Hare. All we know is there are still good people around this country of ours.

Gonna Take That Big White Bird

We are back, the home come heroes. As a small glimpse of how it went, let me first explain that I was not able to update because the luxurious climes in which we were perched charged 75 cents per minute for internet access and even if we'd brought our laptop, we would've been charged 1.00 per minute. I'm sorry, I simply cannot type fast enough to keep it under a monthly paycheck.

I know this is going to be a long post and reading it will be something like watching the much cliched slideshow of someone else's vacation, so you may want to stop here...

The day before we left, we were scurrying around trying to complete our wardrobes, but we finally got it together. Just as I was going to sleep on Thursday, I remembered my last post about my sister's wedding being a true community affair and I realized that this one was, too. Tex loaned me her garment bag; Mr. Tex graciously surrendered his overcoat; Rawdog offered loafers to smooth out the comfy flying attire/easy checkpoint removal/dress code approved footwear problem; Purple Bunny offered sturdy suitcases; Overcoat prepped us on easy airport transitions and transportation and Adjective Queen even gave us a ride to the airport on her day off! And everyone wished us well. So thanks, for being such a nice community everybody!

So, first thing in the morning on Friday, we reenacted the frantic family-to-the-airport scene from Home Alone, tho on a much smaller scale. We were packed the night before, but you still always have those little things here and there; it came off pretty well, tho. I jumped up and quickly got ready and heated some water for instant coffee and oatmeal. Then I helped Super Giant Killer get dressed - brown pin-striped suit pants with gold belt, brown spandex shirt, and pearls - and we just ate breakfast and watched the frenzy reach crescendo until -knock, knock - the Queen was at the door. We got all loaded and pulled away but before we got to the main road, I had to stop. I am in no way OCD, but I am a 'checker' (it's because our house was broken into when I was little and I have never really gotten over it). In all the flurry, I couldn't remember turning off the stove when I heated the water and I had to go back and make sure. The Queen was so nice, although I know I will never live it down.

We got there in plenty of time and got through security just fine. But it soon became obvious to me that I was now old and the times have a-changed. One of the first things I noticed while watching our plane being prepared was that most of the ground crew looked like they had just returned to work from shooting a Kid Rock video and still others may have been at an X-Games event. Where once I watched guys in smart service-type uniforms waving their fluorescent signal lights, I now saw dudes in baggy pants, dreads, and Phish t-shirts whipping around in baggage trucks and refueling planes. Biased on my part to be sure, as here I was complaining about the dress code to which I had to defer, but I still say I'd rather it look like Air Force personnel were prepping my plane than wiggers.

Likewise, I would like to think some former USAF guys are flying the plane. Our 'equipment' out of OKC was one of those Embraer RJ things (aka a flying pencil) and it was full and cramped. I hate those little things. So, we're getting ready to leave and our pilot gets on and he sounds like he's 15. He tells us he's Matt and our co-pilot is Chris. I'm sorry, 'Matt and Chris' sound like two dudes cruising around in a tricked out Mustang, not flying me to Chicago. I want 'Robert and Edward' or better yet, 'Walter and Jack'.

So we start our takeoff and just as we get airborne, SGK squeals, "This is awesome! I've never been this happy in my life!" So, that was worth it. Then the flight attendant announces snacks can be purchased, including cashews for $2. SGK is deathly allergic to cashews. So I turned to YHWH, "did you bring her epipen?" Neither one of us brought it. We sort of panicked because she could die before they could land the plane if she'd gotten a small whiff of cashew dust. So YHWH asked the attendant if she could refrain from serving them, and she didn't want to do it, but she said she would (she even admitted frankly that since they are something the airline makes money on, she isn't allowed to not sell them). It's American Eagle by the way, for anyone who needs to know that they still serve things that can kill people. When we switched to American Airlines in Chicago, we told the crew and they laughed and said they quit serving allergens a long time ago and thought it was stupid for American Eagle to serve them. By the way, on the last leg of our return trip we were back on American Eagle and we told them ahead of time about the allergy and the attendant refused to refrain from selling cashews and said, "We've already told people they can have them! We can't tell them they can't have them now!" Once again, folks that's American Eagle. So, we just begged people around us to not eat their cashews if at all possible and thankfully the three people who purchased a snack pack agreed not to eat their cashews.

Once in Chicago, we had 10 minutes to change planes, which was great. But upon arrival at our gate we learned that rain in the east had cause a ripple effect in the traffic pattern and we were pushed back almost two hours. No problem. You can kill a few hours in the airport. But then we get this phone call. YHWH's folks were letting us know to come straight to their room for a champagne and cheese meet-and-greet in their suite so that the two families can get acquainted. Excuse me, aren't we already going to two weddings, a dinner and a reception? Besides, we already had plans to take the girls to a theme restaurant like Hard Rock or Jekyll and Hyde that first night. So we kicked our dread up a notch there in Chicago.

Eventually, we get to board our flight to LaGuardia, but since the traffic jam still existed on the east coast and an arrival needed our gate, we got to sit on the apron for about an hour and a half waiting to taxi! In front of us was a middle-aged couple from Milwacky who were apparently making their first trip without the kids and their first big weekend getaway to New York. What great fortune befell them as they found themselves seated next to a blowhard who, though not a New yorker himself, knew everything about the city. The Gotham Bloviate regaled them with tales of the wonderous nightlife, rundowns on each and every neighborhood and what to do there. On and on for the four hours it took to get to NYC. All the while the corduroy sport-coated male kept insturcting his secretary/wife to "write that down" whenever the Gotham Bloviate imparted tell of a particularly shiny gem. The Gotham Bloviate was not actually that onoxious by nature, thankfully, and what struck me most was the apparent unpreparedness of this seemingly uptight couple. Do they not have libraries in Milwacky? Or bookstores? Was it that hard to find a guidebook? I thought they might have just been playing nice, but they seemed really uneducated on the subject.

We finally made our approach to LaGuardia about 2.5 hours late, but the remnants of that bad weather were still lingering and our MD-80 was thrown about quite a bit. Even I, who likes rollercoasters and flying, had to lean back, close my eyes and clinch my stomach. We had a glimmer of hope tho, because we were sure the delay made us too late for the soiree. I mean, it was 5:30 and we still had to get over to Midtown in the middle of Friday rush hour. Meanwhile the elite members of my wife's family were attending the only one of the three weddings that 'counted' - the ceremony conducted by the family priest up in Westchester County.

We thought by arriving at our exclusive digs at 7:00 we would've missed the event, but no, they were just arriving themselves. I got through it OK because SGK kind of took over the event by regaling the Argentine Contingent (the bride's familia) with her knowledge of the Pampas and gauchos and also running through two of her karate workouts. As I said, we had promised the girls a trip to a theme restaurant, but YHWH's brother invited us to 'a little Italian place' for dinner and we were much encouraged to go along by the grownups. So, YHWH and I went with her sibs and the bride's to the home of the $30 bowl of spaghetti. In case you're wondering, yours truly did step up to the plate and charm the three people at the table previously unknown to him. He was quickly able to discern their passions and vocations and was able to converse across a wide breadth of topics. And dinner cost $454.

When you go to New York you learn quickly that you will be constantly fleeced of your cash. I'm really not a cheapskate, but it does get burdensome after a while. We had to pay to get our bags to the street at the airport. We had to tip the driver who took us to the New York Athletic Club, we had to tip the bellhop to take them in and the guy who took them to our room. At this 'little place' we had to tip the maitre d', then the wine guy and of course the waitress and the bathroom attendant and the coat check lady. I was constantly handing out dollar bills the whole weekend.

After dinner we collected the kids and returned to our little room. First let me say I am very grateful to the bride's family for putting us up for the weekend. The room didn't cost me a dime so I'm not complaining. But I was shocked that the rooms were so small. We had two double beds with about a foot on either side and a foot between them. There was not much decor to speak of and if I had been knocked unconscious out on the street and awakened in that room I would have guessed I was in a Clarion or Best Western. Not what I would've expected for something in the $400 a night range off Central Park. But like I said, the price was right.

So that was our first night. I'm shutting up now.