My travels to and from Oregon were good. Flights were on time for the most part with perhaps a 15 minute delay between them. As there were at least 90 minutes between Burbank – San Francisco and San Francisco – Redmond, and on the reverse, nothing happened there.
A few days before I left I had to jump out of the way of a car that could have hit me and wrenched my left ankle, but I decided to go on my trip despite my discomfort. On the way home, it was really acting up, so I requested and got wheelchair service, and that made a big difference. I used United to fly, rather than Hell-ta, and am glad I did after seeing their meltdown after the CrowdStrike disaster.
And so, I survived the wrath of the Flying Gods – they attacked after I came back with CrowdStrike’s catastrophic push of a Windows-based patch. How did that happen? Didn’t they test it in a development environment before pushing it to production? Hard to believe.
Oregon! I do enjoy visiting there – such beauty, from wild beaches, woodlands, to high desert. I reconnected with a college room mate from years ago, and with whom I have remained friends with for 50 some odd years.
The first night in Bend, Oregon, I spent at my friend Stephanie’s house. Our plans were pretty low key – a few days on the coast, and the remainder inland in Bend. First, though, get settled for the night before heading west to the coast.
I landed, Stephanie picked me up, we had something to eat and then went to settle down for the night. Visiting good friends like Jay and Stephanie is always wonderful – we pick up where we left off as if time and distance do not exist.
So many people wonder why I say I am always “punished” by the Flying Gods…
Let me tell you! I am sure you will wish to never, ever have me as a flying companion.
First time flying – up to Helena, Montana, to visit friends for a couple of weeks. I was 14. The flight up was lovely – and we flew in to arrive in mid-July to a snow storm! On the way back, the first indication of the Wrath of the Flying Gods occurred: I was stuck in the Pocatello, Idaho, airport alone, unattended, and scared. Dirty old men were around, but as I was not as pretty as another young girl, she had to deal with it more than I did, so we stuck it out together.
You might wonder WTF??!! But this was ages ago when minors were not the Big Issue they are today. We survived a lot of things without constant adult supervision.
Next trip – flight from Santa Barbara, CA, to San Francisco. Good flight in. Flight back was a nightmare – two days of delay. I should have gotten another plane, but again, on my own at 17.
Let’s see . . . for awhile, the gods settled down. I have flown to San Francisco and Sacramento and Colorado on a few occasions without too much hassle. One flight returning from Sac I even got a gift! It was a 3.5 inch floppy for AOL and peanuts! I hate peanuts and am mildly allergic to them. My college degree taught me not to eat Things That Could Be Dangerous.
Okay, early 2000s. I am flying to the British Virgin Islands to go sailing for several days, crewing on a 40′ yacht. The gods displayed their wrath in full on this trip, coming and going. First indication of their smoldering rage was the only emergency medivac helicopter I have ever encountered landed on the southbound 101 freeway into Los Angeles to catch the first leg of my flight. We sat there for at least 30 minutes before we could move on. The helicopter was 3 cars ahead of us, and I could see it was a hellish situation.
Arrived at LAX. Went through security, leaving the esposo behind. I had to take of my shoes, my belt, turn out my pockets, have my body fondled by an icky TSA officer who delighted in feeling me up. Oh, well. I wanted to smack him but I didn’t. Instead, I managed to get to my terminal without killing anyone.
Check in. Oh, your plane is delayed an hour because of mechanical failure. One hour became ten, and I was, once more, stuck in an airport overnight. I had 5 connecting flights to change, and if someone had not mentioned that need, I would have been in trouble. Had to change Dallas-Ft. Worth to Miami, Miami to San Juan, San Juan to some little island in the Caribbean, and then to Tortola, BVI. Luckily I had booked a hotel in Tortola for a few days, so I got there and could rest.
I put on my scopolamine patch 24 hours before setting out to sail, per the directions. Well, I need 48. My first day out was sliding from one side of the boat to the other as I threw up. Once moored for the evening, my stomach settled, and the next day I started to have so much fun! There were tropical depressions, warm rain, nights sleeping on the deck as it sprinkled down on me, vast starry skies. Once the trip ended, I made it to the airport without a hitch after a few more days just exploring the beauty of the islands . . .
And then I get to Miami. Miami to Texas is rerouted because of a hurricane. I go to Chicago. Weather settles and I get to Texas to fly into LAX once more. About 6 hours delay here – maybe more – the trauma has hidden itself away in my mind.
And then we come to our long planned month-long sojourn to Europe. Iceland, Ireland, England, Spain, Portugal on a Viking cruise, ending in a week’s visit with some very good friends in Spain.
Ah, well.
The gods decided to severely punish me for my impunity. Flight to Iceland, while rather tight in economy, was pleasant enough. We got to Reykjavik and were greeted with breakfast in what I believe is the city’s opera house. Thence, to the ship as our staterooms were readied. First night was lovely – comfy room, delicious food, fun exploring the ship like a couple of children. Day 2, out to explore the city. A museum and the a ride to walk around the city. I was really enjoying myself. We headed down the hill to meet up with our group and then . . .
The gods decided to smite with all their fury. I heard a pop and found myself on the ground. No abrasions, nothing. Just a pop and a very sore left arm. Having worked in x-ray for years, I knew my humerus was not happy. My hopes were for a dislocation that could be fixed and we could continue. Nope. I had a spiral comminuted fracture, fortunately closed (meaning no bones protruding from the skin, as happened when I broke my right arm as a kid, but that is another story!). And yes, this is my broken arm before it was patched up . . .
Josh called the ambulance, called Viking, and soon I was in the ER at the University hospital in Reykjavik. Amazing care from the ambulance staff, from the ER staff, and the Viking staff. They took care of me and our total out of pocket cost was about $1400.00 USD. That’s all. Here in the US it would easily run to 40K – and I am not kidding! If you don’t have insurance, you will lose your life’s savings, your first born child, and everything else unless you declare medical bankruptcy . . . .
We flew back with one layover from Reykjavik. Icelandic Air, business class. Blankets, cocktails, wonderful meals, solicitous help. We landed in Detroit with the trip to LA in Delta business class. Talk about hell . . . this was such a crappy experience. First / business class and we had no blankets – it was the middle of the night – it was freezing – no food except commercial products of junk food – and we paid for this?? Never again, I assure you.
And then, arrival at LAX at 1 a.m., less than 72 hours after we left. Luckily we were picked up by Ed and Am, who had brought us sandwiches and drove us up to out house. They made it all so easy. Drugs helped, too! I can never thank them enough.
And this was my latest flight. What awaits Monday? Will we blow up going to Oregon or coming back to Oregon? Will I break more bones? Food poisoning or turbulence or forest fires? Who knows. If all hell breaks loose, I will get a car and drive myself home and be done challenging the Flying Gods. Or, will they lure me into a false sense of serenity so I might wish to defy them again?
Ink, Yarn & Beer 