That was one whirlwind trip. Nothing relaxing about it, active and exciting all the way. I’ll start with the story of getting there. Someone, who lives in this house, who isn’t me, and shall remain nameless, booked our flights to the East Coast. Vancouver to Toronto was OK as it can be, on Air Canada. Note: don’t order the $6 Chicken Caesar Salad. I’m still not convinced it was chicken languishing on the wilted bed of romaine. This is a photo of my luggage, with a tag awarded during my last trip on BC Ferries. I am so hoping that the label referred to the suitcase and not the owner:
The second leg of the trip was on Georgian Air. Ever heard of ’em? Didn’t think so. I’m not sure the Georgian moniker came from the name of the US state or from Soviet Georgia. The two hour trip, powered by propeller, sounded like a huge lumbering flying donkey. Hee-haw, hee-haw brayed the engines over and over again. It was an 18 passenger plane where every seat is a window seat and every seat is an aisle seat except for ours, which were in the first "row" and required accepting responsibility for opening the only door on the plane in case of emergency. The pilot wore dreads. She was barely 30, younger in years than the aircraft itself.
Let me back up. I asked my sister what I could bring from Canada that they can’t get in the US. She requested catsup potato chips. I hand carried six bags of this curiously flavoured snack on the first four and a half hour flight, three and a half hours of delayed layover, finally gently placing them into the closet in front of my first row seat on the braying Beechcraft.
I mentioned that this plane made funny noises. Besides the hee-hawing, there was an occasional BANG. This provided an excellent opportunity to practice the perfect Act of Contrition that even a bad Catholic like me resorts to in times of panic. This came in handy during the landing which felt like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz. Think in terms of the song from the movie which utilizes words such as pitch, twitch, and unhitch. Are you getting the picture?
Back on the ground, the co-pilot informs me that he thinks I’ve lost my potato chips. Opening the closet to a flurry of red chip crumbs, we found every bag except for one, had burst in the lightly pressurized cabin. Hence the midflight sounds of gunshots.
And that was only the beginning of the trip to remember. Stay tuned to the highlights that include reunions with friends and family (sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between the two) and meeting up with famous fellow blogster Sandy. Thanks to all for the good wishes in my pre-vacation post. I’m going to play catch up with all of you starting tomorrow.
Life's a Stitch 
Leave a reply to eyeleen Cancel reply