Wind Down and Travels

I think everyone was tired Sunday.  Various relatives returned for a post-party gathering.  And more bagels.  We visited with folks one last time and then it was time for us to pack and go to the airport.  I’d say this visit we spent more time with the teen and pre-teen set than we did with the adults.

At some point, Mark tried to pack some more books into his carry-on luggage only to find that more items had been mysteriously added;  The Child confessed to packing the FDR Sphinx in Mark’s carry-on because his own luggage was too heavy.  This became a frequent theme as we listened to the canned train depot and airport speeches about not accepting packages from strangers.

The security line stretched on and on and we conga-lined through endless twists and turns of flexible crowd control tape.  I’d have to say that the automated trays you put your carry-on items into was kind of cool and automated.  As I was re-assembling my stuff and donning my apparel, Mark told me security was inspecting his bag.

The guard seemed board and unimpressed as she opened the bag and pawed through it.  Mark was standing next to her, and The Child and I were a short distance away still putting ourselves together.  Various shirts and socks fell to either side of the carry-on until the guard got to a cabbage-sized lump:  FDR Sphinx.

“Oh,” she said tonelessly.  “This is the problem.”

And then she waved Mark through to stow everything back.

We thought it was much more funny than she did.

Our flight was delayed while they changed a tire.  Mark found a good vantage point to see what they were doing and I used my zoom lens to take close-up pictures.  Essentially, after removing a featureless disk of a hub-cap, they used three foot long Allen wrenches to take the lug-nuts off of the faulty wheel and replaced it with a good wheel.   Pretty much how you’d change a car’s wheel, only on a plane.

The flight coming home was more uncomfortable that then one going out:  my seat wouldn’t recline, so sleeping was difficult.  Mark changed seats with me, and I discovered that A) there was practically no leg room and B) the chairs were so flimsy that every time the very large man sitting in front of me heaved forward and then flopped back in an attempt to get comfortable, he’d relocate my knees and wake me up.   So I didn’t get much rest.

Back in Oregon, Mark drove us home.  I stayed awake and made idle chit-chat with him.  After thirteen hours of travel, we arrived through our front door at 1 AM.

The cats were happy to see us.