It's interesting how an hour-and-45-minute flight takes up a whole day...especially when you're an hour-and-a-half from the airport on either end. I can't complain, though, especially when past flights have included numerous plane changes, all in the name of saving a few bucks. I think I'm past that now, and was particularly thankful for a non-stop flight this time.
Winning the award for *worst trip on an airplane ever* is the time I went to visit T & P when they were at Letourneau University in Longview, TX. We lived in Rockford at the time, and P dropped me off at the Hoffman House to pick up the bus to O'Hare. I had just found a seat, was turning to sit down, and the bus forcefully bolted forward. I fell into the seat, in an awkward twisty motion, only to realize I had dislocated my knee. I do not have weak knees (literally or figuratively) and this is the only time I have suffered such an injury. "Suffer" is definitely the operative word, since I had no choice but to grab the offended knee and kick the leg forward, resetting the wayward joint. Ouch. It immediately ballooned, and I kept it up on the seat for the remaining hour-and-a-half (do I see a pattern here?) to the airport. To make a bad situation worse, THIS had to be the trip where I had brilliantly chosen the cheapest flight on the list by taking the roundabout way to my destination. You're not going to believe this, but I promise I'm not making it up. Ok...we started in Chicago and went to Cincinnati. From there we went to Atlanta, and of course, I had to take the train to a different terminal to find my gate. No doubt the farthest possible gate of any in the entire place (though I can't really remember for sure). Then we touched down in Monroe, Louisiana, because, according to the pilot who was "deadheading" on our flight and sitting next to me, EVERY flight that flew over Monroe at that time stopped in Monroe. Why, you may ask (as I did). Because at that time, the president of Delta Airlines lived in Monroe...that's why. At least I didn't have to get off the plane that time. So, who knows how many hours later, and how many miles of hobbling through airports, I finally arrived in Shreveport. Whew.
Fortunately, today's flight was nothing like that. It did leave Tulsa late, but no one minded. When our plane arrived at the gate, it was accompanied by pomp and circumstance, including a soaking by two firetrucks. No, it was not on fire. The reason for the spray down was quite celebratory...a real "water welcome" for a group of Marines returning home to Broken Arrow from Iraq. They disembarked first, to the standing ovation of the crowd. I am such a patriotic sap that I was fighting a breakdown. Then, the rest of the people came off, and thirty minutes later we were ready to board. Thanks to the miracle of the cell phone, I was able to keep P apprised and he showed up at exactly the right moment to pick me up. This was one easy trip, even if it did take the better part of the day.
Oklahoma was beautiful, with all the leaves out and flowers blooming, unlike our northern hinterlands, whose trees are just beginning to bud and may see that four-letter-S-word (snow) in the next few days. We enjoyed lots of visiting and just the right amount of activity interspersed (seeing a newly-married-old-friend, lunch with my brother who was passing through town, dinner at Red Lobster, lunch with my aunt at a winery, and a trip to the genealogy room at the library). My dad located two photo albums that are over 100 years old - a true treasure! Because they were so heavy (over 5 pounds each), he kindly saved me from lugging them home and is sending them in the mail. Thanks, Dad! Thank you both for a great visit.
P.S. - a look around my dad's office brought to memory two more creative endeavors I previously failed to mention...the Navajo loom he built from scratch and on which he weaved (wove?) several very authentic-looking Navajo rugs, and his ukelele playing (self-taught, of course). What a guy.
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