Travel Plans

Three trips in just over a month.

Pity me. I’ll be on 9 different airliners over the next 40 days.

First Stop: Florida

There’s a joke that New Yorkers “get” and I’ll be so bold as to try it here:

Q: What’s a good Jewish wine?

A: [whining] I want to go to Florida.

While midwesterners and northwesterners retire to Arizona, New Yorkers (and others from the northeast) retire to Florida. Not only do they retire there, but they vacation there. And since New York has a huge Jewish population that vacations and retires in Florida — mostly in the Fort Lauderdale area — this joke is funny. Well, at least it’s funny to New Yorkers. (And having heard it from a Jewish person, I don’t think it’s offensive to Jews. You may correct me if I’m wrong.)

Both of my parents retired to Florida. While many people think that might make sense — that they retired together — it’s not as easy as that. They’re both remarried and they each moved to different parts of Florida with their spouses.

My mother, who I’m going to see next week, moved to the St. Augustine area. Technically, she lives in Crescent Beach, which is on the far southern reaches of St. Augustine. She lives with my stepdad on the barrier island there. Her home, which she had custom-built about 10 years ago, sits on a tiny canal.

She and my stepdad used to have a boat, but fuel and maintenance costs made that impractical, considering the amount of time they actually used it. So now they have a bulkhead with a bench overlooking the canal. Their neighbors have boats that they seldom use, too, and they can look out on those.

The area is nicely treed and quiet. There are lots of sea birds.

My mom’s house was built in a U-shape. On one end of the U is the master bedroom and bath. On the other end is another bedroom with its own bathroom just up the hall. That was supposed to be my grandmother’s bedroom, but like so many people back east, she couldn’t leave the area she’d lived in for her whole life. (In fact, she died within 50 miles of where she was born, having lived in only three or maybe four places her entire life.) Grandma’s room is the best room in the house, with privacy, easy access to the pool and hot tub between the arms of the U, a nice bathroom, and its own thermostat. Although the house has four bedrooms, I try to manage my trips so I get Grandma’s room. I stayed in the “kid’s room” once with Mike and was incredibly uncomfortable sharing the tiny space beside the trundle bed with a treadmill’s bulk.

My mother and stepdad are going to Italy at the end of the month for two weeks. This is a huge deal. They don’t travel much and I can’t remember the last time they left the country. They’re going with a tour group (of course) and I don’t know the itinerary, but I’m sure I’ll be filled in when I get there on Tuesday evening.

I haven’t been to my mother’s house since Thanksgiving 2006. She hasn’t been out here since Thanksgiving (or perhaps Christmas?) 2004 (?). She really doesn’t like to travel by plane. One year, they decided to drive out. Yes: St. Augustine, FL to Wickenburg, AZ, a distance of more than 2,100 miles. You might be asking yourself: what were they thinking? The answer: they weren’t. It was a long drive and they were on freeways the entire way. It might not have been so bad if they didn’t hit a dust storm in the Tucson area, but they were tired when they encountered that and it really rattled them.

It takes two planes to fly to visit them — no one has a direct flight from Phoenix to Jacksonville or Daytona (she lives right between them). I could get a direct flight to Orlando, but then I’d spend more than an hour driving from there. I’d rather spend that hour on the ground, in Houston, looking for a nice lunch and shopping in the airport terminal.

I’ll be in Florida for five days: Tuesday through Saturday. Two jets each way equals four different jets.

California, Here I Come!

My next trip is for business. I’m flying into Burbank, CA to meet with a new client for a brand new job. I can’t go into details because I’m under nondisclosure (NDA), but I can say that I’m working on a new project that should be completed by the end of May. I’ll talk about it more then.

I’m flying Southwest into Burbank. I don’t like flying Southwest. The lack of seat assignments is a royal pain in the butt. I like to know before I get on a plane where I’ll sit on that plane. And since I’m likely to have carry-on luggage, I like to know for sure that I’ll be able to stow it. Southwest makes knowing these things impossible, so I tend to avoid it.

But my client paid for this trip’s airfare and booked it for me, so I can’t complain. It’s a more convenient flight than I’d get with another airline — Burbank is closer to my final destination than LAX, and a heck of a lot less crazed. I’ll probably save a whole hour of travel time by avoiding traffic. And maybe, just maybe, Southwest isn’t as bad as I remember it.

Because this trip is for business, I don’t expect to have much fun. I have to finish the entire project in 4-1/2 days. (I arrive on Sunday and depart on Friday at about noon.) The quicker I work, the more time I’ll have to goof off, so that’s a good motivator. And not finishing up on time is not an option.

It’s just one jet each way, but if you’re counting, that brings the total up to six jets between now and May 9.

The Washington Trip

In mid-May comes the trip I’ve been looking forward to: a helicopter flight from Wickenburg to Boeing Field in Seattle, Wa. There’s nothing I love more than long cross-country trips by helicopter. If I could figure out a way to earn a living doing it, I’d be doing it all the time.

The trip is to reposition the aircraft for my summer job. Yes, this year, after two years of false hopes, I’ve been signed up to do cherry drying for growers in central Washington state. But to do the work, I need to get the aircraft up there. That means a 10-12 hour ferry flight which I hope we can complete within two days. Once at BFI, I’ll leave the helicopter with a buddy’s mechanic for an annual inspection, which will be due by then.

Since I’ll be in central Washington for at least a month, I’ll need a place to stay. So right after I drop off the helicopter, I’ll hop on a plane for Wenatchee, WA, rent a car, and start scouting around. I plan to drive up with my new old truck pulling my travel trailer. Alex the Bird and I will camp out for the entire time. I’m interested in finding an affordable campground with full hookup and WiFi, but there’s a chance I might get a free (or almost free) partial hookup with (fingers crossed) WiFi at the same private airport where the helicopter will be based for the first part of the season. Since I have time, I figured I’d go check out my options. It’s a long drive from Wickenburg, AZ to Quincy, WA, and I want to make sure I know where I’m going to be parking my rig before I get there.

The plane from Seattle to Wenatchee may not be a jet, but it will be part of an airline. I fly from Seattle to Wenatchee and then back to Seattle before flying home to Phoenix. If you’re keeping count, that’s three more plane rides for a total of nine.

Other Work

Between all of that, I have other work to do.

I have two helicopter charters for Flying M Air — one of which is later today. After that, Flying M Air’s Phoenix-area operations are closed for the season. I have 21 hours left on the Hobbs meter before I need a 100-hour inspection (which is about the same as an annual, but must be done every 100 hours). If I fly 2-1/2 hours today and 3-1/2 hours on Monday, that leaves 15 hours for the ferry flight and helicopter training I need to do (in Portland, OR, which I hope to hit on the way to Seattle). While I’m allowed to go over the 100 hours if the flight is repositioning the aircraft to where the maintenance will be done, I’m not allowed to go over it for training flights. So I simply can’t take on any new charter flights until I get to Washington.

(And yes, I can continue to operate my tour and charter business in Washington State. My Part 135 certificate is “portable.” So when I’m not drying cherries, I hope to make a few extra bucks by transporting growers and other folks who need to get from place to place near my summer base(s).)

I also need to record a training video for macPro Video. I would have started this last week, or this week, but I’ve been having trouble getting satisfactory recording equipment together. (See my video blog entry about this.) I might try to do some of it in Florida. We’ll see. Otherwise, I’ll have to do it between the Florida and California trips.

I also need to go to Howard Mesa to pick up a few things I’ll need on my summer-long trip. Among them is Alex the Bird’s mid-size cage, which should fit nicely on a shelf in the camper, my low-wattage one-cup coffee maker, and some odds and ends that’ll come in handy for off-the-grid camping, if I need to do any of that. I’d also very much like to get away from here for a weekend because of a variety of other crazy things going on.

And I need to get ready to write a new book about QuickBooks Pro for Macintosh. I’ll work on that while I’m away this summer. I’ll be bringing two (possibly three) laptops with me so I can write. There’s another book I’ll be working on while away, but I’m under NDA about that and can’t say more.

In any case, I’m looking forward to a challenging summer away from Wickenburg.

I’m also looking forward to my three shorter trips over the next 40 days. I really do love to travel.

Back Again

With a nasty cold.

Five days without a blog post! Regular visitors must be thinking that I’ve fallen off the face of the earth.

The truth of the matter is, my dad and his wife came for a visit and I’ve been caught up entertaining them. The highlight of their visit was a the Land of the Navajo multi-day excursion I took them on — mostly to test the itinerary and timing for the trip.

I was nursing a cold when we left Wickenburg on Tuesday, felt a bit better on Wednesday, and hit the bottom on Thursday. The biggest problem was that I couldn’t take any medication before flying. And although I do my flying sitting down, it really sucks energy out of me.

Anyway, I’m back and my dad and his wife are on their way back to Florida. I’ll be fighting this cold today and flying tomorrow. But I’ll try to find time to post some blog entries in between — including one I started last week and didn’t get a chance to finish.

Commercial Airline Travel Blues

At the mercy of misguided authority — and other minor inconveniences.

I flew to Austin, TX today. Well, that’s not exactly true. I wasn’t doing the flying. I was a passenger on a Southwest Airlines 737.

Dangerous Substances and Implements

I hadn’t been on a commercial airliner since last November and I’d forgotten what a pain in the neck it could be. Back then, Mike and I were flying to Florida for a week and we checked our luggage, so all the liquids/cremes/gels nonsense didn’t apply to us. Since those days, most airports have relaxed many of their restrictions on these things. But Phoenix has not. It still limits your liquids/cremes/gels carry-on to 3 ounce bottles that must fit in a clear plastic bag that they provide. They call it 3-1-1, but I have no clue what the 1 and 1 are supposed to stand for.

I had a tube of toothpaste, a tiny bottle of eye drops, 4 disposable contact lenses (in original packaging), and an almost spent tube of face cream. It was tucked into my backpack, along with a change of clothes, some PJs, my 12″ PowerBook, and a bunch of chargers and AC adapters.

I decided that I was going to take my chances with the X-Ray machine. Phoenix could save a plastic bag. If security found my liquids/cremes/gels a hazard to airline traffic, they could keep them.

And that’s what was going through my mind as I waited on line at security.

Until I got to the front of the line and started wondering whether I still had that mini Leatherman tool in my purse. I’d bought the tool back in my turbine helicopter days, when I needed a screwdriver to open the battery compartment on the Long Ranger I flew at the Grand Canyon. SInce then, the tool was always shuffling around from one place to another. I wasn’t sure if it was in my purse.

Security brought good news and bad news. The good news is, they either didn’t find my liquids/cremes/gels or didn’t care about them. The bad news is, they did find the Leatherman tool. But, of course, that’s good news, too. I would have been more worried if it were in there and they didn’t find it.

The Leatherman cost me $34 in 2004 and I wasn’t about to leave it for the security people to fight over. So I got an escort back into the insecure area and a special yellow card that would allow me to come back to the front of the line. I also got directions to the Information desk, where a Indian woman would help me mail my Leatherman home.

I waited behind a man buying stamps for postcards. When it was my turn, the Indian woman weighed my leatherman and gave me a padded envelope and 3 39¢ stamps. I gave her $2.79.

“The mailbox is on the second level,” she told me. Go down one level and go out door 23 on the north side. It’s to the left. You’ll have to walk a little.”

That was the understatement of the day. The mailbox was on the opposite end of the terminal. I think that if I’d walked in a different direction, I probably would have run into a post office sooner.

Back at the line, I was able to get to the front with my yellow card. Then I faced the X-Ray machine again. Would they confiscate my liquids/cremes/gels?

No.

I felt bad for the folks who had unpacked these dangerous substances and revealed them to the world.

East by Southwest

Southwest Airlines LinePart two of my commercial airline travel day came when I arrived at the Southwest Airlines gate for my flight. That’s when I remembered why I’d stopped flying Southwest years ago. No assigned seats.

At the gate were three signs on poles: A, B, and C. And at each sign was a line of passengers. I got on what I thought was the end of line A but was then directed back behind 20 more people who were fortunate enough to have seats on line.

Whatever.

The pre-board line was surprisingly long. On it were folks in wheel chairs, a family with a young child in a stroller, and some older people who looked perfectly fit to me. I guess that when you get to be over a certain age, you can get special treatment if you push hard enough for it.

The pre-board folks disappeared into the plane and they started on line A. I handed over my boarding pass — didn’t need it since it didn’t have a seat number on it — and followed the people in front of me. I was very surprised to get a seat at a window in row 3. Apparently most folks don’t want window seats. Most aisle seats in the front half of the plane were full.

The older folks who had been on the pre-board line were sitting right in front of me.

Planes on LineAlthough we taxied right to the runway for departure, when we turned the corner I saw at least a dozen airplanes in line behind us. I guess that’s why the captain was taxiing so quickly on the ramp.

It was a great flight. Short and smooth. I had two glasses of orange juice, a bag of honey roasted peanuts, and a bag of Ritz crackers. I listened to podcasts: Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, Wired News, and Alt Text.

It was clear through Arizona and into New Mexico. I had a great view of the north side of El Paso. Then the tiny clouds started up, casting oddly shaped shadows on the desert terrain below them. We flew over the oil fields — mile after mile of sand colored squares, connected by dirt roads. The clouds thickened until I could no longer see the ground at all. Then we started our descent. I heard the landing gear lock into place long before I saw the ground again. It was wet.

As I was getting off the plane, I noted that the folks in front of me who needed extra time to board needed no extra time to get off the plane. They were out the door almost before the jetway had rolled to a complete stop. I bet they have a handicapped sign for their car’s rear view mirror so they can use handicapped parking, too.

Austin’s airport terminal looks like a great place to hang out. I’m sure I’ll get a good opportunity tomorrow, while I’m waiting for my return flight.

Unless I decide to spend that time standing on line.

Car Rental Scams and Beyond

The Hertz car rental guy tried hard to sell me the insurance coverage, using the usual scare tactics. I resisted. He then tried to sell me a whole tank of fuel for the car, warning me that I’d pay $6.69 a gallon if I didn’t return it full. I doubt if I’ll drive more than 20 miles, so I told him I’d return it full.

Right now I’m sitting in a nice little room at the Marriott Springhill Suites. I have an Internet connection, a fridge, a microwave, and a king sized bed with a pillowtop mattress. Outside my window is a tree — not a parking lot! It sure beats the place I stayed in last time I came to Austin.

Travel isn’t so bad. I’ll live.