Flyin’ and Travelin’

by Lee Wilbur

Been a while since I’ve had to get on an aeroplane. For about the last ten years we’ve been traveling either by boat or by car, so when AJ informed me that a trip to Arizona lay at the top of her “Bucket List,” I took out a map and after serious consideration decided that we couldn’t get there by boat or three day’ car driving. Not only that, I was a bit concerned we’d arrive flat broke with the cost of petrol what it is today. So buckling up in an aeroplane appeared to be the only avenue.

Now back when I was growing up...still at it…we’d drive to Bangor early in the morning, park the car, check the luggage, get a ticket, have a cup of coffee and a donut. Gatekeeper would take our boarding pass. We’d get on the plane, change in Boston after an airport breakfast and be in Miami by 11:30, with a half day left to clean the boat for the show. Magazines to read, seats decently comfortable and space so your knees weren’t wiping the crumbs off your chin. No 6-inch TV six inches from the nose’s end with no apparent off switch playing inane advertisements. Hospitable stewardess would bring a blanket, pillow, juice, nice smile, anything to make the trip pleasant.

Friends take us to the Tampa airport. Could not, absolutely could not be late. Had to be at the gate no less than two and a half hours before takeoff (Did they need help getting the plane ready?). Billboard directions were such at the Tampa Airport we managed to inadvertently visit several terminals (we were going to be late). Narrowly escaping permanent mental and physical damage we finally zipped across two lanes of traffic and around a sharp corner to be finally and firmly ejected from the van all the while overshadowed by dire warnings of automatic weapons fire if caught lingering or unloading for more than three minutes.

We didn’t have tickets. Numbers. We had numbers. What if one was wrong or God forbid, out of sequence? What if our bags were too heavy? Would “they” rip my underpants out one by one till the scale was happy? Would they confiscate my aluminum soapdish, the one my dad gave me because it wouldn’t stay closed when I was a boy scout. How would AJ ever survive the trip with fewer than 10 pairs of shoes. Stories of friends’experiences raced through our nervous minds until the baggage gestapo passed us two pieces of flimsy paper recognizing we had a seat on the 9:30 to Houston.

Two hours to go. No breakfast. We’d grab a bite after checking in. Figured on half hour to get to the gate. Walking, escalating, passenger railcar, walking some more we come to a line that would have made opening night for Celtics season proud. “Deposit All Bottled Water in the Barrel Before Entering.” I wondered where all the bottles of water for Haiti were coming from. Why did the airline want my water? I’d heard a traveler couldn't even get a drink on an airplane. What about water?? Houston was a 2-hour flight. I’d need liquid!! Back and forth we snaked. See the same passengers pass by about 30 times till we fetched up in front of stacks and stacks of trays. What was going on here? People were getting undressed. Piling belts and shoes and what belongings they had left into these trays and sending them down conveyor belts to be swallowed by a box with a television.

I knew I was special. I have a titanium knee. I would be treated with more care than the rest of these poor creatures. I have a plastic x-ray picture card to prove it. I just have to hold it aloft and say “Knee.” What a pleasant and unique experience I would have. A nice man comes over and introduces himself and begins to put on rubber gloves. For Chrissake I’ve got a titanium knee he doesn't need to give me an analectomy exam. What's going on here? He proceeds to feel me up. Is he going to ask me to cough?

We re-dress. Collect our carry-ons. Re-pack those. Hour and a half gone. I look around. Everyone either has a cell phone stuck in their ear or is texting someone. I don’t have one. Is it mandatory? Will the airline let us board without. I’ve got my computer. Maybe I should take it out and pretend I know how to go wireless. Would they notice my screen saver was permanently on? What about breakfast? We had to get something to eat. Airlines don’t feed or drink. Could we find a cafe for just a piece of dry toast before boarding. No...just Bars, Pizza, Souvenirs, Newsstands. Ah, a McDonald’s. Just what we need. We can purchase a heartburn and won’t need to eat until we get to Arizona.

The plane is all they said it would be. It flew. We “placed our luggage in the overhead rack”—stuffed would be a more appropriate description. An exasperated stewardess had bent my 90 degree knee to 110 degrees, helping to graciously shove it into the one foot of legroom ahead of my assigned torture rack. I pulled out a Grisham novel hoping by losing myself I could bury my conscious and pain for the flight. They did serve liquids after all. By then I didn’t dare to drink for if I had to use the washroom, (Why do they call them washrooms? It’s mentally and physically impossible to soap and hold the water handle down at the same time in an area one foot by one foot!) I would never get back into this cramped position again and would have to stand for the remainder of the flight. Then, God forbid, I wouldn’t be allowed to board the Houston to Phoenix leg and would be forced to wander the terminals of Houston until AJ picked me up two weeks later on her way back. Thoughts wandered if Greyhound still “Leave(s) the driving to us.”

On landing in Houston we walk from gate sequence “C” to gate sequence “B.” Just around the corner it would seem. A mere stroll for the hour between flights. Except, we’ve got to exit the plane and that’s a good 15-20 minute exercise and then… and then “all passengers should be at their assigned gate no less than 30 minutes before departure.” My running days are long-forgotten memories. Gates B were half mile away and ours was at the end.

Two weeks later in late evening at Tampa, Florida airport and signing for a reserved 1-day car rental to get home, Hertz makes the announcement “We are temporarily out of vehicles and there may be as much as an hour and a half delay. You may join those other folks in the waiting area who are also waiting......”

According to the calendar, the few days of summer in Maine will soon be with us and we should be ready for its fleeting presence. Perhaps some may be warm. If that happens to be the case one might think seriously of a light dinner or lingering appetizers.

* R E C I P E *

 

Cucumber and Salmon Rolls

6 ozs. softened goat cheese

5 fine chopped large Mint leaves

1 long English cucumber

1 finely minced garlic clove

1/4 lb. very thinly sliced smoked salmon

tooth picks

Combine the goat cheese, chopped mint and minced garlic. Stir again after allowing to set for about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, wash and trim the ends from the cucumber. Halve the cucumber and carefully cut 16 thin slices lengthwise from the two halves. Cut 16 1” by 6” (approx.) pieces of smoked salmon. Lay out a piece of cucumber and lay a piece of salmon on top. Dollop a shy tbsp. of the goat cheese mixture at one end and starting at the goat cheese end roll up the the salmon and cucumber and secure with a toothpick. Garnish with cherry tomatoes. Pray for SUN and serve immediately.