Blinded by the Light

The first breath I took this morning at 6:30 am bit the inside of my nose. 

It was 24 degrees outside when I stepped out my garage for my morning run.  This morning’s temperature was one of the coldest I have attempted to tackle with a morning run.  The plus was there was no wind, so 24 was what it felt like.

The days are getting a bit longer and the sun is rising a bit earlier each morning.  Just a few weeks ago, I completed my warm up laps in the dark and set out eastward on the highway in time to see the orange sun breaking through the trees as it rose above the horizon. 

This morning the prettiest part of the sunrise – the breaking into day – occured during my warm ups.  By the time I stepped out on the highway heading east, the sun was up above the trees, no longer orange, but a bright blindingly beautiful yellow.

As I ran toward the rising sun, I couldn’t help but just look toward it. I became mesmerized by the bright light.  I watched the light streaming through the trees in the distance as it slowly climbed higher in the sky.  I was oblivous to what was around me.  I felt my feet hit something not so smooth and looked down to see I was running across a bit of rocks. 

At that point, I thought about how running is an analogy of life in general.  How often do we set out on a course and get blinded by something wonderful on the horizon?  The most common “blinding” we here about is “blinded by love.”  How true it is that when someone falls in love/lust, they are blinded to their surroundings.  They don’t see the rocks and boulders under their feet, the warning signs they are not on the right path, because they are looking into the beautiful light and not seeing anything else.

Once the sun is up over head and we begin to look around us again, we see the everyday things that were there all along.  That’s when we realize we took a wrong turn, or the detour we took to prolong our view of the blinding light leads down a dead end road.

It’s not just in the matters of love that we are blind.  Sometimes we are fine right where we are, but we see the blinding light of a new job that seems so perfect.  Promises are made, all we see is the good.  We don’t look away from the too good opportunity long enough to see what is really on the road right in front of us.  How many times do people abandon what they have for a promise of better things and then realize they are in the same boat?  Or out of the frying pan and into the fire?

That’s not to say that we should never take risks to better ourselves.  But maybe we need to take our eyes off the blinding sun long enough to assess where we are and what we are doing.

Running toward the rising sun this morning blinded me to the potholes and rocks along my route.  I took a 1/2 mile loop detour off the east bound route right at the one mile mark.  On this short loop, I couldn’t see the sun, I was among trees and houses.  I could see the road before me, all the rocks and holes.  Once I got back to the eastbound highway, the sun was higher in the sky and not directly in my eyes, blinding me to all that was around me.  I had a better perspective of where I was and the road in front of me. 

Maybe that is a life lesson.  When you are speeding toward the bright light of love, a huge life change, debt or slaming the door on a relationship, maybe you need to take the 1/2 mile loop off the blinding path to get your perspective and your eyesight back.

Arrival

Welcome to Denver, where the local time is one hour later than your body clock and the temperature is cold and there is not enough air for you to breathe.

Right after I sent my letter to Northwest, I got a love text stating my first class upgrade had been confirmed.  I believe Northwest still loves me.

I felt like a flying virgin today and had a few faux pas along the way.  Before I confess my faux pas, I must put out my disclaimer that I am under more stress than usual and having a bit of struggle keeping my cats herded. 

Stress #1:  Someone came in my house last week allegedly to rob and pillage.  Only problem was that I was at home when they came in.  I didn’t come face to face with my visitors as they were probably as scared of me as I was of them.  When I realized someone was in my house and so was I, I grabbed my keys, got in my car and drove straight to the police station.

Stress #2:  I love to bitch about my aching back because that makes me feel like I am doing something about it.  However, it has become progressively worse over the past few months and all the bitching in the world is not helping it any more.  I hate taking pain pills worse than I hate leather car seats so the doctor decided rather hear me whine and complain about pain but not taking pain pills, he sent me for an MRI. 

The MRI results came back and I did not get the news I wanted.  I’ll report back after I see the neurosurgeon next week.  I am not happy.

Stress #3: A text message from my brother as I was speeding to the airport this afternoon.  “4 soldiers killed by ied in Nephew’s unit.  Not him. Waiting for call, unit on lockdown.”

That’s not the kind of message I want to read or see although I am very aware that message was really good news in a really bad way.

I can’t stand thinking about my 21 year old nephew manning artillery in Mosul.  If I picture him in his uniform, with his child like face smiling at me, standing in that hot desert, well, I can’t think about it.  I imagine many military families struggle with knowing their solider is brave and doing right thing and having pride in them to dying on the inside because you want them out of harm’s way. 

Mr. New President – if you’re reading this, I want our soliders home, OK? 

So by the time I got to the airport, I was half upset, very stressed and not fully focused on the tasks at hand. 

I have a method, a procedure, a way I do things to keep my travel as simple as possible.  I park at the same place.  I go in the same entrance to the airport.  I put my boarding pass and ID in the same place.  I check in, go to the ATM and the potty.  Then I go through security.  I have a system.

Today I didn’t follow my system and couldn’t find my driver’s license when I got to the potty.  I forgot to take my one quart zip lock bag of liquids less than 3 oz out of my bag for xray.  I forgot where the newsstand was located.  But once I got my coffee and newspaper, I settled down a bit and the rest of the trip improved.

The flight was a bit bumpy and I was not pleased.  The flight attendant came around with a basket of goodies and offered each first class passengar his or her choice.  I know what is in the goody basket and I was looking forward to my snack size Twix and banana.  However.  The guy next to me grabbed the last banana!  Asshat!  I wanted that banana! 

He didn’t eat my banana right away, he put it in his seat back pocket.  I stared at my banana and wondered if there was a way I could created a diversion of some sort and grab my banana out of his possession.  I waited to see if he would go to the lavoratory, giving me the opportunity to not only claim my banana, but eat it before he could tattle on me to the flight attendant.  I waited..  He didn’t go anywhere.  I turned my evil thoughts inward and decided if I couldn’t eat my banana, I would make his ride as unpleasant as possible.

So I pulled my Fiber One bar out of my purse, ate it hurriedly, guzzled the rest of my bottled water, tilted my ass toward him and let the fiber do its job.  I bet he’ll think twice before he grabs the last banana out of the goody basket.

The minute the plane door opened and the Denver air rushed in, I recognized it.  If I were in a room blindfolded, I could breathe in that air and know it was Denver.  There’s no other air that feels or smells like the air in Denver.  That is a good thing on many levels, one of which is there is not enough air in Denver, so I’m glad that is unique to Denver.

I went down the escalator to board the tram to baggage claim.  You know those trams, don’t you?  A spiffed up subway.  As we stopped at terminal B, a family consisting of a daddy and mommy were approaching the tram to get on.  The mommy had a baby less than a year old in her arms along with a huge diaper bag.  As the family approached the trams, the doors started closing.  Dad sped up and jumped into the tram leaving mommy and baby behind.  Mommy started to come through, another passengar on the tram lept to the door as it was closing to keep it from closing on Mommy and Baby.  Mommy jumped back and looked at dad in sheer fright.  He sheepishly grinned at her from inside the tram and shrugged his shoulders.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  I was sorry I used all my fiber on the banana guy.

Once I collected my 34 pound suitcase, I went to the rental car curb where the Budget Rental Car bus was waiting.  The bus was less than half full when I got on board.  A family approached the bus and the driver stopped them.  This couple also had a young child and more shit than either one of them could carry.  Stroller, car seat, 3 suitcases, diaper bag, various carry-ons, a hanging bag, I couldn’t figure out how they were transporting it all without a pack mule.

The driver told them the bus was full and they’d have to wait for the next one.  He told a fib.  Our bus was not full.  But honestly, if I were him, I would not have wanted to struggle with all that shit either. 

It is snowing in Denver tonight, a thick wet snow that blows under the awning of the hotel.  I used to come Denver once a month or so but it has been over 2 years since I have been here.  I like Denver, I have missed coming out here.  I think I could live here if they’d just get some more air.

Safety Advice

It is Monday morning!

I have many many things to write about today.  Good things, worrisome things and scary things, however, there is one particular thing that I am worried about more than anything else going on right now.  In my tiny mind, it is a really big thing.  It is bigger than my hypochondria:  I had an MRI last week and will get the results today.  It is bigger than that.  It is bigger than someone breaking in my house last week and me surprising them when I came downstairs.  It is bigger than having the police and Mr. and Mrs. Cravitz come to my rescue in said bad circumstance.  It is bigger than the wonderful spring weather we had this weekend and my first 5 mile run in WEEKS. It is even bigger than the new car I finally FINALLY bought on Saturday.  What, you ask, could be bigger than ALL of that this fine Monday morning?

Here it is:

Dear Northwest Airlines,

I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time.  I have enjoyed keeping up with you on the internet, I see you are doing well as am I.  We have never gone 3 months without being together and in a perversive sort of way, I have missed you.  I have to admit the first few weeks were an adjustment.  You are such a constant in my life it was really weird not being with you.  I handled it the best I could by making myself busy at home.  I kept the laundry done, I cleaned out the junk drawer and I made homemade bread.

I see you carried on as well, working through your merger with Delta, delaying and canceling flights, losing people’s suitcases and playing that game where you make up different rules every week to keep us from getting bored.

But tomorrow we get back together, Northwest, and we will resume our weekly sessions.  Are you looking forward to our reunification?  I am, but I’m also nervous.

You remember, Northwest, that years ago I had serious issues with airsickness.  You remember those days, don’t you?  Ah, yes, the good ole days!  I puked on every flight for 2 years.  I couldn’t sit with a coworker or customer on a flight for fear of barfing on them.  But you were patient, Northwest, and you made sure I had plenty of vomit bags in my seat back pocket.  Thank you for that.  You were much kinder to me than Delta was.  Delta got really mad at me on that horrible propellar plane flight in a thunderstorm from Johnson City to Atlanta.  How did I know there was 2 vomit bag limit per passengar?  And I apologized for making the other passengars around me hurl too.  My assvice to Delta is if you are going to fly propellar planes you might want to adjust your vomit bag to passengar ratio accordingly.

But you Northwest, understood and we worked it out.  You saw me coming and gave me cool wet cloths and gingaerale.  You never complained if I needed more than one puke bag. You never made me feel embarassed or chastised for my problem.  You are truly a friend, Northwest.

But let’s talk about tomorrow, Northwest.  We’ve been together a long time.  We’ve spent a lot of time together, time that I could have spent with my husband and grandchildren.  You’ve rewarded me with frequent flyer miles that got my husband to Hawaii with me and allowed me and my BFF’s to jet about the country for much needed BFF time.   You know I love you with a reluctant, no-choice-really kind of love.  So I am not asking you this to be demanding or mean, I’m asking this because you and I must learn to coexist together.  Our jobs depend on each other.

I love Captain Sulley.  He landed the US Air flight in the Hudson River and as far as I am concerned, he is hero just above the anonymos white water rescuer that pulled me out of the class 4 rapids last year one minute before I was surely going to die.  You’ve heard of Captain Sulley, haven’t you?  You know what happened to that plane, don’t you?  Birds flew into the engines.

Just a few days later, a flight that took off from Denver had to turn around and make an emergency landing when a bird was sucked into its engine.

This concerns me, Northwest.

I am sitting here thinking about jet airplanes and those big engines mounted on the wings.  I know all too well what they look like.

I am thinking of the technology throughout the years that made it possible for people like me to strap themselves into missiles and fly across the country at speeds exceeding rednecks on four wheelers chasing deer through the woods.  The technology and engineering is amazing and hard for a small mind like mine to grasp.

And birds are taking it down.

I haven’t heard of anything the airlines, plane manufacturers, FAA, Homeland Security or our newly elected president are doing together or independently to address this national security issue.  I’m not glued to CNN or anything, but I’m thinking that birds have taken down more planes this year that Al Qaeda.  Am I right?

What are you, doing, Northwest, to address this threat to our safety?  Nothing that I’ve heard so far.

Look, I’m not a rocket scientist or anything, but I have been around birds all my life.  There are ways to keep birds out of places they shouldn’t be.  It doesn’t cost that much either.   While you are paying your engineers bazillions of dollars to study and talk about the problem of birds taking down planes and how to fight this threat to airline passengar safety, may I suggest a simple, cheap, quick temporary solution to keep people like me from puking on your flights out of fear?

The Co-op on the bypass sells chicken  wire by the miles.  It’s cheap, its flexible and a staple gun is the only installation tool needed.  Look, Northwest, all you have to do it put some chicken wire on the front of those engines and the birds will stay out of them.  You can use the chicken wire until you, the airplane manufacturers, FAA, Homeland Security and the newly elected president come up with a million dollar per plane fix for this annoying problem.  You know once the government gets involved, it will take years to get a solution, use the chicken wire until then.

I have to fly tomorrow Northwest.  To Denver.  We already know the birds have attached a plane there, the threat is real.  Make me feel better, put some chicken wire on the engines.

Love,

Frequent Flyer.