Wednesday, June 19, 2024
Clayton, Ohio was brewing 90 degree temps with high humidity, so it was truly a relief to head for Seward's icebox. What was not a blessing was flying the friendly skies. American Airlines' newest motto may be "Let Good Take Flight," but air travel is like a box of chocolates: you just never know what you are gonna get. Adding my electric folding wheelchair to the mix made everything more complicated.
Travel can be a luxurious adventure, but it often comes with its share of bumps and tribulations. Today's experience was a prime example, a story of sharp minds and unexpected airport chaos. It all started with a dose of heartwarming efficiency, courtesy of my 89-year-old mother-in-law.
Now, you might picture someone of that age needing assistance to navigate the simpler things in life. Not her. She bravely volunteered to pick us up at the crack of dawn, a testament to her independence and unwavering thoughtfulness. She's not just mobile for her age; she's remarkably sharp, a whiz with numbers and a genuine conversationalist. Her presence instilled a sense of calm and confidence that we were in good hands, at least until we reached Dayton International Airport.
We thought we were prepared. We'd called the airline weeks in advance, diligently answering their every question regarding the portable wheelchair we were bringing for the trip. Size, weight, battery type – we laid it all out for them, hoping to streamline the check-in process. You'd think this meticulous planning would translate into a seamless experience, right? Wrong.
What followed was a comedy of errors, or perhaps more accurately, a display of comical inefficiency. Despite our preemptive preparation, we were met with bewildered expressions and a palpable sense of disorganization. We were subjected to a barrage of repetitive questions, seemingly aimed at confirming information we had already provided countless times. The real entertainment, however, came from watching the airline staff scramble around like… well, like chimpanzees trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics. Trying to locate the proper tags and forms for the wheelchair seemed to be a monumental task, a logistical puzzle they were clearly unprepared to solve.
Thankfully, we'd had the foresight to arrive almost two hours before our flight. It turned out to be a stroke of genius, providing us with ample time to navigate the airline's organizational shortcomings. While the check-in process was certainly frustrating, it highlighted the importance of patience and proactive planning when traveling, especially with mobility aids.
TSA pre-check was a breeze, and we arrived at our gate just in time for early boarding. We proceeded down the jetway, folded and bagged my electrical wheelchair in two minutes flat and took our seats. I felt a huge sense of relief.
I truly despise flying to Anchorage with two layovers, but the only alternative was either drive to Kentucky or Columbus, for a one stop flight. So we sucked it up this time. Our first layover was Dallas/Fort Worth, and we killed time by grabbing lunch and doing some geocaching adventure labs. Our next layover in Seattle was also relatively painless. Saint Jim Somerville had given us passes to use Alaska Airline's lounge, but we didn't have enough time to take advantage of them. We did have a minute or two for some people watching where you sometimes see the most interesting things.
The familiar hum of the aircraft subsided, replaced by the distinct sense of being back in Alaska. Stepping into Ted Stevens International Airport is always a mini-adventure in itself. Before even claiming our bags, there's a ritual to be observed: a pilgrimage to the iconic landmarks that define the Alaskan experience. Of course, I'm talking about the majestic white polar bear, a silent testament to the Arctic wilderness. And who can resist a chuckle at the sight of the bull moose, boasting a rack that seemed to defy gravity? Then there's the shimmering display of silver trout, a reminder of the pristine rivers and lakes that teem with life. It's a perfect, albeit miniature, encapsulation of the wild beauty waiting just outside the airport doors.
This year, the adventure started with the keys to a brand new 2024 Toyota Tacoma. The reliable workhorse was ours for the duration, promising to be a steadfast companion on the roads less traveled. With our cargo space secured and a sense of anticipation bubbling, we set off for our Alaskan home away from home: the Rudd's.
The warmth of their welcome is something we look forward to every year. Curt and Renee are the epitome of Alaskan hospitality, their smiles as bright as the summer sun (or as bright as the Aurora Borealis, depending on the season!). And of course, the greeting wouldn't be complete without a tail-wagging welcome from their dog, Mark, who always seems genuinely pleased to see us.
After the warm hugs and catching up, the rumble in our stomachs reminded us of the less-than-stellar snack situation on our flight. Luckily, Curt, ever the thoughtful host, offered to whip up grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches. The comfort food, combined with the familiar surroundings and the genuine warmth of the Rudd's, washed away the travel weariness and set the stage for what promised to be another unforgettable Alaskan experience.
Curt and I could talk trains and music for days on end and tonight was no exception. I handed him a thumb drive with another collection of songs to listen while driving his truck. He asked if I had listened to his last recommendation of Cross Canadian Ragweed, John Prine or Seminal Winds by John Anderson. Well, two out of three ain't bad, right? I never did get around to tracking down Cross Canadian Ragweed, but I am listening to it while I type up this entire journal. Cody Canada crowing, "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired" always brought a smile to my face.
Another hot topic was the Alaska Railroad acquiring two used SD70MACs from the Kansas City Southern as well as three leased from the Union Pacific Railroad. Alaska Industrial Paint will receive the two remaining McKinley Explorer railcars for repaint next year. The ladies kept informing us it was getting late so we finally headed through the door to their guest apartment at 10:30 p.m. which was 2:30 a.m. home time. Tomorrow would indeed come early.