Posts Tagged ‘airport security’
So Many
So many minutes.
So many cars.
So many hours.
So many people.
After driving around the parking ramp at the airport for much longer than we hoped, looking for an open spot that we could fit the car into, we got our bags checked and headed for the security line.
I don’t know if this is happening very often these days, but Elysa and I breezed through the “standard check” and had to wait for Cyndie, because she was bogged down in the overcrowded “precheck” line. The security theater is alive and well.
Unfortunately, our short flight from Minneapolis to Chicago involved a repeatedly extending mechanical delay after everyone had boarded the plane, making the trip take twice as long as it could have been. Since Cyndie opted to rent a car, we had an opportunity to wait many more minutes for that line of travelers to be processed.
It is obvious to me that I live a sheltered life, as the throngs of people I was marveling over would be considered quaint compared to even bigger population centers around the world. So many people.
Thankfully, the families and friends who have gathered to celebrate the nuptials of Alec and Haley have thus far proved to be some wonderful people, and the gushing of love for the couple from everyone is truly adorable.
We drove for many minutes from the airport to our hotel. After a quick change into dress clothes, we rode in a shuttle for many minutes to a country club for a welcome party/rehearsal dinner, where toasts were plentiful.
So many people to meet and family members to catch up with.
Today is the wedding and all that comes with that. There is a lotta love in the air.
It is truly beautiful.
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Travel Averse
For a guy who doesn’t like to travel, the next few weeks will be a test of my stamina. Or is it patience? We are flying to Chicago today for a wedding of Cyndie’s nephew over the weekend. Less than a week after we get back, I join two friends to drive to the far side of South Dakota to bike the Mickelson Trail over five days. When I return from that adventure, Cyndie and I travel with our friends, Barb and Mike, flying to Boston to explore Beantown activities with Barry and Carlos. That will include a jaunt to Maine to spend some time at their lake place.
I get tired just thinking about it all. I already miss my bed. But looking on the (sarcastic) bright side, I will get to deal with airport TSA at least four different times and hang out for hours with many other strangers who are traveling to or from the same places as me. I will get to sleep in hotel rooms! <blech!>
I will miss emerging from the trees while walking Asher in the morning to find an amazing number of mystical-looking spiderwebs that were woven overnight, hanging vertically in the tall grasses of the back pasture.
Yesterday, we expected to be able to meet a local woman who responded to Cyndie’s ad in the neighborhood app seeking volunteers. The meeting had already been postponed by one day because she was unexpectedly called upon to care for a grandchild.
The appointed hour came and went, and we heard nothing. Cyndie sent an inquiry but got no response. It felt like we were being ghosted.
To our relief, just before dinner, Cyndie received a response from the woman. Unfortunately, her day was disrupted by an early morning phone call with the distressing news of a friend’s death. We gladly agreed to try again to meet in September after we return from Boston.
Coincidentally, we had a second meeting planned for the afternoon horse feeding with a new person who volunteers with This Old Horse. She has been helping out at a barn in New Richmond, which is 30 miles north of us. Cyndie is hoping to get coverage for horse feedings over Labor Day weekend, when I will be on my bike trip in South Dakota.
We were one for two on the day.
The adventures of establishing coverage for animal care when we are away can be as involved as the travels on which we embark. That probably contributes to my general preference for remaining at home. I feel a bit like Eugene Levy, the Reluctant Traveler.
I am inclined to label myself travel-averse.
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Relative Something 