Catching the Bus

I was on my way.  I got up about 4:00 AM  and started my car, just to be sure that it WOULD start.  It was 17 below, after all.  Clicking the remote from the warmth of the kitchen, I watched nervously, breathing only when I saw the exhaust start billowing from the tailpipe.  

"Okay," I thought.  "I won't have to wake up Terry to take me to the bus."

I was glad about that because I didn't want to have to make arrangements to be picked up upon my return.  

I dragged my luggage to the car.  One carry-on:  check!  One personal item:  check!  One garment bag:  check!  Yes, now I would have to submit my belongings to the handling of the baggage handlers, but there was no way around it.  I needed everything I was bringing.

I drove to the bus station, leaving plenty of time to spare.  After purchasing my ticket, I, along with the other travelers, watched the TV in the station lobby. 

"Unseaonably cold," said the reporter. "Don't go out unless you have to!"

 Lucky us!  We were getting away from this latest deep freeze.

Looking around, I wondered to myself, "Where are these other people going?  Hopefully, somewhere warmer."

Two women walked in together,  embarking upon some joint venture, noticably excited about their trip.  They deposited their bags in the appointed place.

"One-way tickets for two to Midway!"  One woman paid for both, treating her friend to the ride.  They helped themselves to coffee and plunked down heavily on the small sofa.

Next to me sat a solitary traveler.  He wasn't dressed in a business suit, just casual attire, work clothes actually.  He relaxed with his eyes close, perhaps dozing or maybe just resting his eyes. I wondered about where he was going and why:  was it a family gathering or something job related?  He didn't look like the frequent-flyer type.  No briefcase, no garment bag filled with suits.

The announcement came.

"The First bus goes to O'Hare; the second bus goes to Midway. Have your tickets ready."

This was it.  Everyone jumped to attention, anxious to board the waiting coaches.  

"This the bus for O'Hare?" I asked just to be sure. 

 "Yes ma'am.  Let me take your bags."

I walked up the aisle of the bus, surprised by how crowded it was.  Sitting down, I looked through the window and viewed the darkness that still made up this morning. We drove down the street towards the tollway.

 The familiar sites of this oft traveled street looked different at this time of day, as if they had not yet awakened.  Only night lights shone within the buildings.  Signs were blackened, lots empty.  No line of cars awaiting the changing of the traffic light.  The driver handily maneuvered the long curve of the ramp and merged quickly into light traffic.

"This is it! I'm on my way," I thought.  "The first couple of steps are completed.  What will the rest of the day bring?"

It would be a long morning of travel, sure to be exhausting.  But while riding that bus I felt exhilarated and ready for adventure.   Travel can be like that, after all: an invitation into the unknown, even when the final destination has been chosen and all details have been tended to. Adventure is in the eyes of the beholder.  And it can be experienced in the most unlikely of places.

At A Loss for Words

The trip to Washington went very well.  The flights were on time, I made all my connections and there was very little turbulence.  All the flights were on small planes, fifty-seaters that made boarding and unboarding  quick and easy.  True, leg room and aisle space were scarce, but other than that it was really enjoyable.

My six day excursion was jam-packed with so many exciting events that I find myself at a loss for words that adequately describe the experience.  The inauguration events were not just exciting, they were more than that. Words, even pictures, don't do justice to the spirit that permeated the cold Washington air.  "Surreal" comes to mind, but that's not quite it.  Makes it sound weird, I think, and it wasn't.

So, I'll wait another day, perhaps putting pen to paper to help me focus and identify what I was feeling and still feel about all that went on.

In the meantime, allow me to say that I had a great time with my son...  He started his new job while I was there and seems to be very excited about the opportunity to work for the president.  Who wouldn't be I guess?  We spent a lot of time together, but I also tried to give him the space to spend some time with friends without his mom in tow.  I read, I watched TV and just relaxed.  It was nice to be away from it all.

So, news and impressions of the inauguration will follow in the next couple of days.  The channel becomes how to write about it all without banalizing it?  I hope you will check back to see if I succeed.  I invite you to share the experience with me as soon as I know what to say.

Erica Jong Holds No Copyright on Fear of Flying!

Well, one thing about not writing for a few days is that I have the opportunity to apologize once again. At least it gives me something about which to write! So, please forgive me yet again for not posting; I have been busily preparing myself, both physically and emotionally, for this trip to Washington.

Those who know me well know that I don't necessarily enjoy flying. This trip, scheduled for mid-January, is no exception. Not only that, but for the first time I am flying alone--no friend, no family member, no group of wayfaring wanderers...just me! By myself! Yikes!

Add to that the fact that I have a connecting flight in Cleveland--yes Cleveland!--(heavy sigh here!) with only one hour between landing and take off. With each passing day, the stress is building. Do I check luggage or try to just carry on? What if the Chicago flight is delayed? Can I really see myself running through the airport in Cleveland trying to drag my carry-on, which surely will be overpacked and unbalanced, as usual? Yes, in my dreams I see myself tripping and my luggage tipping all the way to the connecting gate. Only to find... Well, I think you can imagine how the nightmare, I mean dream, concludes.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to the trip because I am. But for goodness sake--a direct flight to D.C. takes only one hour and forty-five minutes. Do we really need to transfer in Cleveland? What's that anyway, about forty-five minutes away?

I want to go, I really do. I'm excited about the inauguration and the inaugural ball. I've gotten myself a new dress and I'm ready for a night on the town. I just wish there were an easier way. I wish I would have invented my tele-transporter--the one where we can just decompose into molecules and relocate ourselves in another location instantly. I should have paid more attention in my physics class, I guess.

Instead, I sit and nervously watch the weather. How much snow are they predicting? The temperature will be how low? It might be a comfort to be getting out of town to avoid Chicago's winter if it weren't for the fact that the jet streams pushes the weather East. By the time I land, the weather here will be well on its way to where I'm headed. (Another deep sigh here!)

Well, what can I do? After a point it's all out of my hands. I'll get in my car, drive to the bus station and head for O'Hare. From there on, the airlines will have to do its best to get me safely to my destination. On time? Well, that's another matter entirely, I suppose. Maybe it's good that I'm leaving a few days early. By leaving Friday, I should be able to get there by Tuesday, I'd imagine. So, that's the silver lining I guess. Should I bring my sleeping bag just in case? No! Checking that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back. Can you imagine me running to the gate with a sleeping bag, sure to be unrolling, in tow? I guess I'll take my chances. Perhaps there'll be an extra cot that I can use. And maybe things will go smoothly after all. One thing about expecting the worst is that it's only up from there.