Really, I shouldn't be posting this on my Japan blog but it's too great of an adventure not to share. If it weren't for the delay in plans I wouldn't be here anyways so it all works out.
Yesterday was Friday, the last day of the work week. The final day of orientation, Day of Goodbyes, start of the weekend, Fun Friday, Jeans Day, etc. This particular date was the first of April, or April 1st, whichever you prefer. A less coveted name is April Fools Day: loved by many, hated by the rest. There was a moment of doubt when I learned I had to fly to the East coast on that day, but pushing superstition aside I flew anyways. You know my talent for drawing out a long story, but for the sake of time I'll give the gist.
Arriving at the Columbus Airport I checked in with US Airways marching straight up to the kiosk where a pleasant woman was eagerly waiting to assist. I thought I would be cool by swiping my passport to pull up my flight information…yeah, whip out that American Blue with the Japanese visa flapping out of the pages. Instructions onscreen directed to scan the barcode, which I found on the back cover of the Passport, white bars with corresponding numbers above. The kiosk featured a bright scanning light, which turned into a little cross-target when it recognized scannable material within range. After several failed attempts to scan the barcode I entered my plea for assistance. The middle-aged bleach blonde promptly flashed her perfect smile, flipped to the front page featuring some random number sequence (NOT labeled barcode or even looking like a barcode) and slid it through some credit card reader-looking slot at the top of the machine above my eye level. Voila. Both the red scanning light AND the "barcode" were both tricks!!!
Happy April Fools to me, love, US Airways and the government.
At this time, the agent cheerfully told me that my flight was delayed 45 minutes due to a back up in LaGuardia, NY, where I was to catch a connecting flight. We spent some time trying other options but figured that my original plan was best; if I ended up missing my first connection then she had me booked on the next flight later in the evening.
Good news: one of the teachers who recently returned to the states was also in the airport with me so we were able to chat about Japan until I had to go through security. Little did I know that would be the last real human contact I would ever encounter….
The fun continued when my flight was further delayed by a half hour. The ticketing agent assured me that the pilot was aware of my connection urgency and would try to schmooze the controllers into letting him leave earlier. I have a feeling he wasn't doing it just for me. After landing in NYC, exited the breezeway, rushed over three doors to my right and informed the agent that I was the passenger they were probably waiting for.
I wasn't.
"That flight left already, ma'am."
5 minutes ago.
April Fools! Love, The Pilot.
So, looks like I'll be on the late flight, folks. Departure at 7:30 and currently 3pm.
Good news: I brought my *new* laptop and my favorite 3 hr movie. Stick a little time in there for dinner, people watching, and garage band and the time will just fly by! I easily found an outlet near a comfy oversized chair (DON'T expect this in O'Hare…you'll be on the floor of a busy, dirty walkway and holding the plug into the socket to prevent it from falling out of the wall). After eating some outrageously priced romaine lettuce and watching the sun set across the metropolis skyline through the wall-like windows I went to check the ticketing counter and double-check this reservation I'd been promised.
"What's your name, Ma'am?"
I answered.
"Never heard of you. You're not on this flight."
April Fools! Love, the Ticket Agent with a thick accent.
I pulled out my unused boarding passes and relayed my tale of woe and unkept promises.
She squinted at the screen.
"I see you're on the "requested" list.
Nope. Wrong list, lady. It's Virginia or bust for me; I am not spending the night here.
She figured it out and let me sit in seat 3D. Front of the plane! Not bad, not bad…
I glanced at the readerboard above her head.
"Wait…is this flight…delayed?!" I inquired.
"Oh, yeah, it was late taking off. New departure time is 7:55pm."
Alright, fine, I can wait another half hour. I called my aunt to inform her of the change and found a nice cozy airport chair as I set up my movie. This particular gate had about 4 other flights coming in and out so they were constantly making announcements about boarding and more delays. I happily watched Hugh Jackman sing and dance around on the stage of "Oklahoma!" until I heard an announcement about my flight. Delayed, again, by a half hour. We boarded at 8:15, walking outside the terminal in the dark, past the parked planes, following the person in front of us and hoping they were going the right way since there was no marked path. Away from the bustle, alone on the tarmac by himself sat a little plane. He was painted like the others, had wings like the others, and had a pilot and steward like all the others, but his plane friends made fun of him and shunned him because he was too small. His body was narrow, his stature, failing to reach the height of a breezeway, forced his passengers to walk OUTSIDE and use STAIRS to climb aboard. You may not know this, but it is incredibly embarrassing for a commercial plane to endure these things. Perhaps the most crushing blow was that he didn't have proper housing for his engine, leaving parts like fan blades out in the open air. We humans call them "prop planes" but his friends had another name for him: Awkward Allen. Allen was tired of all the ridicule and bullying from the bigger jets. Fed up with sneers from other large craft, and even shifty glances and laughs from their pilots and crew, Awkward Allen lashed out.
I sat in row 3D, right in front of the wing. Allen laughed as a particularly tall fellow boarded the plane and had to crouch about a foot down the length of the aisle to avoid hitting his head, a goal he didn't achieve…
Our steward, a pleasant-looking fellow but obviously a newbie, nervously read the pre-flight announcements from a small notepad and proceeded to retract the stairs and secure the cabin door. The pilot called out from the open cockpit door, "don't shut that quite yet!" The startled young man looked confused, mentally reviewed the routine he'd memorized and decided that the pilot had the last word for everything. He let down the stairs.
The man to my right inquired aloud, "I wonder why he wants the door open?"
"It makes him feel like its bigger in here!" Quipped the man on the left.
At 8:30 the pilot apologized for the wait.
At 8:45 the pilot informed us that maintenance was on their way and we should have "the problem" fixed in no time.
WHAT?!
April Fools! Love, Awkward Allen.
At 9:20 we finally felt that magical backward push that meant we were on our way to Virginia…odd to think that I should have been sipping a glass of wine with my aunt at that time. Even more surreal was that I should have been nervously looking out of the window at an expanse of blue endlessness on a 747 jumbo jet en route to Tokyo. I guess Mother Nature celebrated April Fool's Day a few weeks early.
The magical push ended and we magically moved forward…with no engines. Huh? Then we stopped. The lights flickered. The guy next to me looked out the window at the half-lit tarmac and enlightened me: "It looks like we sucked up all the juice while we were sitting there for so long and now they have to jump start the plane. Probably have to gas it up, too, since there was such a short turn around. Well, he was right, and we felt things being hooked up and more lights flickered as the energy transferred into the engines. The left prop started spinning and created a current, and after another jump the right prop joined suit. Allen laughed.
An annoying sound of loudness prevailed the entire journey. Yeah, annoying.
Good news: the NYC lights were pretty amazing.
We managed to land in Charlottesville, VA, before the airport locked down for the night. I met my grandpa and we waited for my luggage.
And waited.
And waited….until we were the last ones in the baggage claim and the carousel stopped. There were two unclaimed bags but mine was not among them. A lone employee emerged to retrieve them and I inquired about my missing luggage. Meanwhile, my grandpa is making cracks at how awful it is to fly US Airways, how LaGuardia ALWAYS loses luggage, and New York airport workers can't read. My grandfather is a critical person sometimes.
The Last Mohican asked me my flight info which launched a pointless debate about my original scheduled flight versus the actual flight I boarded. Looking less than remorseful, the tired woman looked at her computer screen and said, "this bag came in on a different flight HOURS ago! " (the one I was supposed to take).
Great! WHERE IS IT?!?!?!?!
April Fools! Love, illiterate baggage claim workers.
She disappeared through a back door and I imagined her turning off all the lights and locking the doors for the evening, leaving us in a dark empty terminal for the night to sleep on cold hard floors. Emerging victorious moments later, she handed over my precious cargo and we started the long trip up the mountain at 11:30pm. We didn't even get home until about 12:30 and I was super tired.
Anyways, I didn't even mean for that story to be so long. I'm not done yet! Today was much more interesting.
Life on "The Mountain" is much different than my Oregon residence. You might say to yourself, "But Suz, they're surrounded by beautiful countryside, relatively close to the ocean, and enjoy a casual lifestyle…what could be so different about that?"
Ha.
I went to Wal Mart with Pop today in the minivan, grinding around the curves in 2nd gear until we emerged in the valley and merged onto the highway. I had been up to my aunt's before but never went into town.
Observation #1: I guess I didn't realize how strong their accent is here. I think it's important to recognize the difference between a "cute" or "hot" accent and one that makes you sound….slow. Eeevery thaaang is draaaawn ooooout an' noooo waaan kin pranaaouce thar wuurds ooar saay uh sentaance in uunderr thaaarty sehkonds.
Drove me up the wall. Not that I think they should change or that I think they're bad or "slow-minded" people. No, I'm worried that I will catch on and start assimilating! I'm very sensitive to differences in language and sound and pick things up quickly. Before, when I lived in Texas, I had to consciously choose, every day, to retain my West Coast speech and use a specific set of pronunciation. It was difficult.
Observation #2: Almost every man over the age of 15 donned some cameo article of clothing, whether boots, pants, jacket, or hat.
Observation #3: Persons in the previous observation also bought a 24 pack of beer which happened to be on rollback price.
Observation #4: We picked up a case of toilet paper, paper towels, and lysol to restock the local firehouse.
Observation #5: In the curtain aisle, a woman asked me where the drapes were located. I had seen her thumbing through them across the aisle from me and thought, "you were just looking at them!" I pointed to the merchandise next to her and politely replied, "are those drapes not the style you're looking for?" "Well," she started, "I'm looking for some that you can put a curtain rod through." I looked at the package that clearly depicted a curtain rod holding up a sage green drapery in a staged living room. "Well, it looks like that is what you're looking for. As you can see, there is a curtain rod going through the top of the curtain and holding it up. Is that what you are looking for?" The woman wrinkled her nose and gave the package a critical glare. "Is that what it is? I'm not so sure…." I pointed to the sample curtains hanging up in the aisle, the exact color and model on the package, hung by a fake curtain rod. "Well, ma'am, you can take a look at that example one there…it seems to be the same thing as the package, and it has a place for the rod…" "Oh…hmm…." I walked away and left her to process that information.
Back at the house, my Grandpa saw a strange man walking around. Through talking with my Aunt and the owners of the general store they were able to figure out who it was after they looked up the tire tracks.
My Aunt lives in a small mountain community, Montebello. One time she rounded a particularly sharp corner and almost hit a large animal crossing the road. she pulled over, realized it was a lost alpaca, and considered coaxing it into the back of her Honda Element and taking it to the general store so that the owner could easily find it.
We went to dinner tonight at the local restaurant. It's pretty nice, and serves nice dinner entrees while providing a casual atmosphere…not excluding the March Madness crowd that comes to the bar, sipping on fresh local brews and staring at the HD screens. As we waited for a table the hostess started our tab at the bar; not being a beer connoisseur, I started and ended the evening with my favorite Long Island iced tea. Of course my aunt knew the owner and bumped into someone she knew who plays poker with her son…getting the picture yet?
On the way home we were enchanted by a clear, starry night as we drove along the mountain ridge line. "Oh look! There's Montebello. All five lights of it…" There, in the distance, were five distinct and separate lights: The general store, the post office, the firehouse, and two privately owned property lights.
So far, my Aunt has several projects lined up for me including cleaning, filing, keeping Pop company and out of trouble, errands, and learning some B&B basics to help with guests and backpackers. I may run a 5K with my cousin for kicks and laughs. Pop mentioned teaching me how to run a chainsaw. My kanji packet is already on the kitchen table and I've started reviewing.
It's gonna be a great few weeks!!!
Yesterday was Friday, the last day of the work week. The final day of orientation, Day of Goodbyes, start of the weekend, Fun Friday, Jeans Day, etc. This particular date was the first of April, or April 1st, whichever you prefer. A less coveted name is April Fools Day: loved by many, hated by the rest. There was a moment of doubt when I learned I had to fly to the East coast on that day, but pushing superstition aside I flew anyways. You know my talent for drawing out a long story, but for the sake of time I'll give the gist.
Arriving at the Columbus Airport I checked in with US Airways marching straight up to the kiosk where a pleasant woman was eagerly waiting to assist. I thought I would be cool by swiping my passport to pull up my flight information…yeah, whip out that American Blue with the Japanese visa flapping out of the pages. Instructions onscreen directed to scan the barcode, which I found on the back cover of the Passport, white bars with corresponding numbers above. The kiosk featured a bright scanning light, which turned into a little cross-target when it recognized scannable material within range. After several failed attempts to scan the barcode I entered my plea for assistance. The middle-aged bleach blonde promptly flashed her perfect smile, flipped to the front page featuring some random number sequence (NOT labeled barcode or even looking like a barcode) and slid it through some credit card reader-looking slot at the top of the machine above my eye level. Voila. Both the red scanning light AND the "barcode" were both tricks!!!
Happy April Fools to me, love, US Airways and the government.
At this time, the agent cheerfully told me that my flight was delayed 45 minutes due to a back up in LaGuardia, NY, where I was to catch a connecting flight. We spent some time trying other options but figured that my original plan was best; if I ended up missing my first connection then she had me booked on the next flight later in the evening.
Good news: one of the teachers who recently returned to the states was also in the airport with me so we were able to chat about Japan until I had to go through security. Little did I know that would be the last real human contact I would ever encounter….
The fun continued when my flight was further delayed by a half hour. The ticketing agent assured me that the pilot was aware of my connection urgency and would try to schmooze the controllers into letting him leave earlier. I have a feeling he wasn't doing it just for me. After landing in NYC, exited the breezeway, rushed over three doors to my right and informed the agent that I was the passenger they were probably waiting for.
I wasn't.
"That flight left already, ma'am."
5 minutes ago.
April Fools! Love, The Pilot.
So, looks like I'll be on the late flight, folks. Departure at 7:30 and currently 3pm.
Good news: I brought my *new* laptop and my favorite 3 hr movie. Stick a little time in there for dinner, people watching, and garage band and the time will just fly by! I easily found an outlet near a comfy oversized chair (DON'T expect this in O'Hare…you'll be on the floor of a busy, dirty walkway and holding the plug into the socket to prevent it from falling out of the wall). After eating some outrageously priced romaine lettuce and watching the sun set across the metropolis skyline through the wall-like windows I went to check the ticketing counter and double-check this reservation I'd been promised.
"What's your name, Ma'am?"
I answered.
"Never heard of you. You're not on this flight."
April Fools! Love, the Ticket Agent with a thick accent.
I pulled out my unused boarding passes and relayed my tale of woe and unkept promises.
She squinted at the screen.
"I see you're on the "requested" list.
Nope. Wrong list, lady. It's Virginia or bust for me; I am not spending the night here.
She figured it out and let me sit in seat 3D. Front of the plane! Not bad, not bad…
I glanced at the readerboard above her head.
"Wait…is this flight…delayed?!" I inquired.
"Oh, yeah, it was late taking off. New departure time is 7:55pm."
Alright, fine, I can wait another half hour. I called my aunt to inform her of the change and found a nice cozy airport chair as I set up my movie. This particular gate had about 4 other flights coming in and out so they were constantly making announcements about boarding and more delays. I happily watched Hugh Jackman sing and dance around on the stage of "Oklahoma!" until I heard an announcement about my flight. Delayed, again, by a half hour. We boarded at 8:15, walking outside the terminal in the dark, past the parked planes, following the person in front of us and hoping they were going the right way since there was no marked path. Away from the bustle, alone on the tarmac by himself sat a little plane. He was painted like the others, had wings like the others, and had a pilot and steward like all the others, but his plane friends made fun of him and shunned him because he was too small. His body was narrow, his stature, failing to reach the height of a breezeway, forced his passengers to walk OUTSIDE and use STAIRS to climb aboard. You may not know this, but it is incredibly embarrassing for a commercial plane to endure these things. Perhaps the most crushing blow was that he didn't have proper housing for his engine, leaving parts like fan blades out in the open air. We humans call them "prop planes" but his friends had another name for him: Awkward Allen. Allen was tired of all the ridicule and bullying from the bigger jets. Fed up with sneers from other large craft, and even shifty glances and laughs from their pilots and crew, Awkward Allen lashed out.
I sat in row 3D, right in front of the wing. Allen laughed as a particularly tall fellow boarded the plane and had to crouch about a foot down the length of the aisle to avoid hitting his head, a goal he didn't achieve…
Our steward, a pleasant-looking fellow but obviously a newbie, nervously read the pre-flight announcements from a small notepad and proceeded to retract the stairs and secure the cabin door. The pilot called out from the open cockpit door, "don't shut that quite yet!" The startled young man looked confused, mentally reviewed the routine he'd memorized and decided that the pilot had the last word for everything. He let down the stairs.
The man to my right inquired aloud, "I wonder why he wants the door open?"
"It makes him feel like its bigger in here!" Quipped the man on the left.
At 8:30 the pilot apologized for the wait.
At 8:45 the pilot informed us that maintenance was on their way and we should have "the problem" fixed in no time.
WHAT?!
April Fools! Love, Awkward Allen.
At 9:20 we finally felt that magical backward push that meant we were on our way to Virginia…odd to think that I should have been sipping a glass of wine with my aunt at that time. Even more surreal was that I should have been nervously looking out of the window at an expanse of blue endlessness on a 747 jumbo jet en route to Tokyo. I guess Mother Nature celebrated April Fool's Day a few weeks early.
The magical push ended and we magically moved forward…with no engines. Huh? Then we stopped. The lights flickered. The guy next to me looked out the window at the half-lit tarmac and enlightened me: "It looks like we sucked up all the juice while we were sitting there for so long and now they have to jump start the plane. Probably have to gas it up, too, since there was such a short turn around. Well, he was right, and we felt things being hooked up and more lights flickered as the energy transferred into the engines. The left prop started spinning and created a current, and after another jump the right prop joined suit. Allen laughed.
An annoying sound of loudness prevailed the entire journey. Yeah, annoying.
Good news: the NYC lights were pretty amazing.
We managed to land in Charlottesville, VA, before the airport locked down for the night. I met my grandpa and we waited for my luggage.
And waited.
And waited….until we were the last ones in the baggage claim and the carousel stopped. There were two unclaimed bags but mine was not among them. A lone employee emerged to retrieve them and I inquired about my missing luggage. Meanwhile, my grandpa is making cracks at how awful it is to fly US Airways, how LaGuardia ALWAYS loses luggage, and New York airport workers can't read. My grandfather is a critical person sometimes.
The Last Mohican asked me my flight info which launched a pointless debate about my original scheduled flight versus the actual flight I boarded. Looking less than remorseful, the tired woman looked at her computer screen and said, "this bag came in on a different flight HOURS ago! " (the one I was supposed to take).
Great! WHERE IS IT?!?!?!?!
April Fools! Love, illiterate baggage claim workers.
She disappeared through a back door and I imagined her turning off all the lights and locking the doors for the evening, leaving us in a dark empty terminal for the night to sleep on cold hard floors. Emerging victorious moments later, she handed over my precious cargo and we started the long trip up the mountain at 11:30pm. We didn't even get home until about 12:30 and I was super tired.
Anyways, I didn't even mean for that story to be so long. I'm not done yet! Today was much more interesting.
Life on "The Mountain" is much different than my Oregon residence. You might say to yourself, "But Suz, they're surrounded by beautiful countryside, relatively close to the ocean, and enjoy a casual lifestyle…what could be so different about that?"
Ha.
I went to Wal Mart with Pop today in the minivan, grinding around the curves in 2nd gear until we emerged in the valley and merged onto the highway. I had been up to my aunt's before but never went into town.
Observation #1: I guess I didn't realize how strong their accent is here. I think it's important to recognize the difference between a "cute" or "hot" accent and one that makes you sound….slow. Eeevery thaaang is draaaawn ooooout an' noooo waaan kin pranaaouce thar wuurds ooar saay uh sentaance in uunderr thaaarty sehkonds.
Drove me up the wall. Not that I think they should change or that I think they're bad or "slow-minded" people. No, I'm worried that I will catch on and start assimilating! I'm very sensitive to differences in language and sound and pick things up quickly. Before, when I lived in Texas, I had to consciously choose, every day, to retain my West Coast speech and use a specific set of pronunciation. It was difficult.
Observation #2: Almost every man over the age of 15 donned some cameo article of clothing, whether boots, pants, jacket, or hat.
Observation #3: Persons in the previous observation also bought a 24 pack of beer which happened to be on rollback price.
Observation #4: We picked up a case of toilet paper, paper towels, and lysol to restock the local firehouse.
Observation #5: In the curtain aisle, a woman asked me where the drapes were located. I had seen her thumbing through them across the aisle from me and thought, "you were just looking at them!" I pointed to the merchandise next to her and politely replied, "are those drapes not the style you're looking for?" "Well," she started, "I'm looking for some that you can put a curtain rod through." I looked at the package that clearly depicted a curtain rod holding up a sage green drapery in a staged living room. "Well, it looks like that is what you're looking for. As you can see, there is a curtain rod going through the top of the curtain and holding it up. Is that what you are looking for?" The woman wrinkled her nose and gave the package a critical glare. "Is that what it is? I'm not so sure…." I pointed to the sample curtains hanging up in the aisle, the exact color and model on the package, hung by a fake curtain rod. "Well, ma'am, you can take a look at that example one there…it seems to be the same thing as the package, and it has a place for the rod…" "Oh…hmm…." I walked away and left her to process that information.
Back at the house, my Grandpa saw a strange man walking around. Through talking with my Aunt and the owners of the general store they were able to figure out who it was after they looked up the tire tracks.
My Aunt lives in a small mountain community, Montebello. One time she rounded a particularly sharp corner and almost hit a large animal crossing the road. she pulled over, realized it was a lost alpaca, and considered coaxing it into the back of her Honda Element and taking it to the general store so that the owner could easily find it.
We went to dinner tonight at the local restaurant. It's pretty nice, and serves nice dinner entrees while providing a casual atmosphere…not excluding the March Madness crowd that comes to the bar, sipping on fresh local brews and staring at the HD screens. As we waited for a table the hostess started our tab at the bar; not being a beer connoisseur, I started and ended the evening with my favorite Long Island iced tea. Of course my aunt knew the owner and bumped into someone she knew who plays poker with her son…getting the picture yet?
On the way home we were enchanted by a clear, starry night as we drove along the mountain ridge line. "Oh look! There's Montebello. All five lights of it…" There, in the distance, were five distinct and separate lights: The general store, the post office, the firehouse, and two privately owned property lights.
So far, my Aunt has several projects lined up for me including cleaning, filing, keeping Pop company and out of trouble, errands, and learning some B&B basics to help with guests and backpackers. I may run a 5K with my cousin for kicks and laughs. Pop mentioned teaching me how to run a chainsaw. My kanji packet is already on the kitchen table and I've started reviewing.
It's gonna be a great few weeks!!!
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