My creative day is an inverted sine curve, high early and late. That mid-line area is spent doing whatever the physical tasks of the day demand. My blogs usually are published very late pacific time, Fridays, which is very early eastern Saturday.
Two Fridays ago I was on a plane during the time i would normally be at my desk. We left San Diego at the beginning of their ‘storm of the century.’ We sat on the tarmac for quite some time as the captain and other folks calculated how to get the aircraft off the ground. The increasing wind was coming from the south producing a tailwind for takeoff, and that was not an optimal condition.
First, they had asked in the terminal if there were anyone who would like to stay for the exciting event, offering hotel accomodations and food vouchers and a promise of flying out first thing in the morning. Most of us at that time thought it was the usual airline overbooking scenario, although they were making it sound a lot more fun.
Then, there were the continual admonishments by flight attendants to store all big carryons in the compartments and keep all smaller things and coats under the seats. There was a threat that if everything could not be contained onboard we would have to jettison fuel and make a refueling stop in Denver. That got attention although not compliance.
I suggested to my daughter that if we had been on Southwest, they would have been handling things a bit differently. “People!” one attendant would announce, “What are these little packages doing in the overhead?” “Get these coats on or under the seat!” he would yell, throwing garments out of the storage compartment.” It was funny at the time.
My husband thought it sounded very Alaskan Airline when we reported that ultimately all the checked luggage was removed and sent to Seattle on its way to Boston the next day, fuel was removed, and the non-stop flight touched down in Denver for refueling. “Remember that scene in Never Cry Wolf, when the little plane is trying to take off and they keep throwing things out?” he asked.
The luggage would be delivered wherever we wanted, but, not knowing exactly when it would arrive, I did not know where I would be. We would be picked up by my younger daughter, go to Home Depot parking lot in Tewksbury, MA to meet my husband and he and I would drive to our home in southern Maine. In the morning we would drive back to Massachusetts to visit with daughters and grandchildren, then, back home for Saturday night. The next day we would drive to Newry so I could work Presidents’ Week at Sunday River. Where did I want them to deliver my luggage?
The decision was at my daughter’s in Massachusetts. If worse came to worse, which seemed inevitable as Saturday gradually disappeared without a call to tell us they would be arriving within a half-hour, they could bring it with them when they came to ski later in the week, or we could pick it up in 10 days, on my way to the flight back to California. Just as we were finally giving up, we got the call, and, as promised, about 30 minutes later our luggage.
Each year at the beginning of the season, it takes a few days to remember all the things we need to do in the morning, and whether we are keeping things in our company locker or home. Then, there is the routine that kicks in and preparation time becomes fairly seamless. But. This year I worked all December and then left for almost two months, so I had to undergo the routine establishment twice, complicated by not being sure that just because I couldn’t find them at the condo,did not necessarily mean mittens and under-jacket were in my locker. And, yet, they were.
Now, I am through with the hiatus of skiing daily, getting things laundered and packed away, and preparing for my trip west tomorrow evening. It has been a lovely time home. But, the creative parts of the sine were eaten by other demands. Soon, I will be back to tell all that I learned and remembered about teaching folks to ski. Before I drift into preparations to fish.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.