Monday was a travel day, and I was up at 3:20 when I woke up. I checked what time it was. I was startled awake by the silenced alarm showing. Did I do that? No memory. I jumped out of bed and soon headed out of the room after a fast clean up, shave, and gathering my already packed items. My PJs, a gift from Deborah, were packed in my carry-on, and I was out at 3:45 and on the road in Air Kia before 4AM. Yikes!
I made one last cup of coffee and drank it as I boarded Air Kia. The travel was wet and windy, and Air Kia fish-tailed a few times. It was hard going in the dark with the rain and trying to find my way back to the car rental place. The lines of the streets and highways are hard to see sometimes with the dark and rain, but I arrived safely and found the entrance to Hertz and parked and emptied the car. I checked it twice (as I did the hotel room).
I was pointed by a processing clerk to a shelter with a bus. The bus was moved to the next shelter, but I walked anyway. The wind and the rain blowing over the acres of cars were cold. It was still the correct bus. About twenty minutes later, I was at DTW. I rolled my bags up two escalators to find a long line to check bags. The tagging and boarding pass printing machines had and third of the machines not working, f**k, and there were lines three travelers deep. It was slow going, and I was getting concerned. The Delta folks did seem to fix one, and I jumped on that one after someone got it to work. Soon, I was tagged and then placed in another long line. That one went fast enough that I did not get more concerned. I dropped off my bag and wandered lost until directed to take the escalators back down and go through security there.
I descended, entered security, and soon took off things and put them in trays. Apparently, I did not raise my hands high enough (I think they wanted my pants to fall off) on the first scan and had to do it again. I passed, as did my tray of items. My pants remained on. After a moment of reassembly, I saw, as usual, that I had the last f**king gate in Detroit, as far away as physically as possible. How airlines manage the bending of time and space to ensure that each passenger gets the maximum exposure to retail stores and Airport propaganda always amazes me.
I see that I can pay for some 3D glasses and walk around in a virtual space with marks on the floor for the limit of the vision. I demurred. I walked to another escalator (How many ups and downs can a place have?) and soon took the express train to the end of the gates. After another escalator, I was quickly at my gate, A9.
The food place sign says they open at 5AM, and it was fifteen minutes past the demarcating time of no food to food. But I was informed that they were not ready. I thanked them for their efforts. I found a table in view of the food place and A9. Perfect.
I returned to the food stand when they seemed ready, but alas, no, I could get a bagel and cream cheese, which was simple. I concurred, bought it, got a number, and was told to wait. As the process was simple, it was quickly completed, and I enjoyed breakfast. Alas, they do not make coffee (!), and I would have to try the coffee place over there (out of the line of sight) to get coffee. Nope. I just ate and wrote the start of the blog.
With 2/3 of the blog done, the boarding was soon, and I packed up from my excellent table. Called out my thanks to the bagel providers, and that got a smile, even on a blurry Monday. The boarding process was usual, and being a blurry Monday, the customers were exceptionally polite and seemed happy to just line up and be told where to go. Even the screaming children who just realized they would be put in a flying, uncomfortable, and scary tin can for about 70 minutes (we all should be crying!) were muted in their protests.
I found 34A and put my bag in the overhead bin, ignoring that I should first use the space at my feet. Punishments for this sin were vague, and I decided to risk it and enjoy my feet having room for over an hour as we were depressurized to the base camp of many mountain climbers (yes, about the equivalent of 7,000 feet). I was joined by two gals covered with implements for flying that made me wonder if they knew this was the Detroit to Boston flight. Yes, they were only flying one flight.
I performed the ritual to summon my screen to life and recognize me, including exchanging codes. Now, I plugged in my wired but noise-reducing earphones and watched most of the movie Argo (I will complete it on the flight back—yes, Delta-sync will remember where I left off). I paused the show, nodded off, and missed the beverage serving. We were informed that ‘smooth air’ would be searched for, but it was likely allusive in this area. The pilot insisted that we wear our seatbelts and just try to relax–few services would be available.
My seatmates were missing. I heard one seatmate espouse that her blanket was necessary. She could not find it. She ran to the restroom, and she cried and was ill. She received comfort from other passengers (I was oblivious as the restroom was ten seats back, and I was enjoying the movie). The blanket was found, and she finished the trip in her seat.
While it is easy to eye-roll, talk about the snowflake generation, and make fun of younger people, something folks with grey hair think is one of the few pleasures of getting older. Pain is still pain, and I made every effort to be supportive and pretend this was all normal. I smiled and helped here and there. I was happy for her when she could relax and find peace.
We arrived early but then were delayed by the gate staff being missing and the usual curfuffles of arriving too early. Soon, I was off the plane with all my goods and walked endless poorly marked hallways with more escalators going up and down in unexpected places. I found my checked bag and called Clint. He wanted to know what terminal I was at. A helpful fact that was not on any sign–Yes, Logan Airport conserves signage.
Soon, we connected, and I was whisked away in an older Ford Escape that did not have a large screen. We stopped for brunch after Exit 1 in New Hampshire; I missed the state change. We skipped the tunnel as the maps app had used to cover Boston above ground. We had a baked tomato, eggs, and feta with pita for brunch. Wonderful!
We stopped at my hotel and learned there was no checking-in until after 2:30. Period. I find this in only half of the hotels. I often score the room, even in the mornings. My coughing was not improved by the lack of sleep and depressurization from the flight. We headed to the clan ensconced at Clint’s and Annika’s home (Annika being Susie’s neise). Clint explained the lay of the land; me, coining a phrase here.
Soon, I was at the house, about twenty-five minutes from my hotel. I soon saw Gene and Glenda (Susie’s uncle and aunt) and various kids (now much older). Clint showed me his 3D printer and started a print. Clint and I then found time to learn and play the Kickstarter board game Chocolate Factory. A Kickstarter I did not back (but I remember reading about it). I found it a marvelous resource management game with just a hint of worker placement and engine building sliding in. It plays six rounds and uses a unique sliding action I have not seen before. It reminded me of a much lighter version of the Grand Austrian Hotel.
You start with coco in pods and turn them into chocolate-based products, which you can machine into various fine chocolates. You play three shifts and burn coal to run machines. I often ran out of coal. You can exchange chocolates for coal (thus, excess can be at least used). The run of your factory was immersive, and I wanted a Willy Wonka hat and sing some songs when working in my factory (“Ump, Ump, dup-pa-dee-do”). I managed to pull ahead by filling orders for corner stores and doing enough on the large stores to keep Clint from sweeping me. I won by 18 pounds (points) but felt I could have done better. I was tired and decided to get dinner and rest at the hotel.
The hotel I would call a pit and cannot recommend it and will not be returning to the brand. It is clean. There is no coffee, and dishes and other things, like DIY coffee makers, are only available on request. F**k. I espouse that hotels supply coffee. Ugh!
I found Clint’s recommendation, Cedars Cafe, and had lamb kabobs for dinner. And that, with freshly made hummus and pita, was a great meal in my room. I showered and found a tiny bottle of shampoo and soap bar. I went to bed and soon slept. I woke once to prove hydration and then took my meds; it was late, but at least I remembered. I rose late with my cough reduced with mostly forgotten dreams of making chocolates.
I forgot in yesterday’s blog that we did see the Dymaxion house at the Henry Food Museum. This was a post-war idea of building an aluminum house with a cable system to hold it together, Buckminster Fuller’s idea. Only two prototypes were built, as he never got funding, and they are combined into one example at the museum. We waited about forty minutes in line and got to walk through the house. The bathroom was smaller than what I had seen on submarines, and the kitchen made my galley kitchen look friendly and spacious, but still, it was a wonder to see the unaccepted idea. They walked us ten at a time, the maximum the house could handle, and explained the functions. Some of the ideas we have seen in cartoons and some SciFi shows. The museum had just opened the house to visitors; Deborah had never been inside, though she had seen it many times, and it was one of her favorites at the museum. We noticed some changes and learned that the house was reinforced now and that the house had people walking it all day. We wondered aloud if a party at one of these would have damaged the house, but we were told that the constant tours required reinforcement, though we were less convinced.
Seeing this vision of Buckminster Fuller and the post-WW2 idea of a two-bedroom, two-bath home was fantastic. Walking through and seeing the system’s guts, exposed for the tours, was fascinating. I would recommend the tour to anyone (except for small kids, as it would bore them).
Poe’s Desk. There is a collection of historical furniture that was fun to look at.
With the story now all caught up, my coughing reduced this Tuesday, New Year’s Eve. I am pleased to finish up the story; thanks for reading!
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