Ah, Midwest snow. For the past three winters I have seen little snow. If it did fall in Arkansas it always melted within a few days. I will admit that being in Marion, Indiana is not always the best place to be when it comes to winter recreation. Flat land is not very good for sledding. Fortunately, this is not the first time I had faced this problem. In college, snow came every year and so we headed to the only hill in town. Money is always scarce when you are a college student. As they say "necessity is the mother of invention". The cafeteria trays were a favorite of some but not my little group of friends. Where the idea originated I am not sure just one of those things that gets passed along do to the common need that arises every year. With the tradition of using what you have, trash bag sledding began.
Again, I am in that situation where I have very little money. But even if I had to the funds to buy everyone a sled, I wouldn't. I would still go out and buy a box of trash bags, the heavy duty ones. Of course, you might think. Trash bags are water resistant and have a nice slick surface. All you have to do is put one on the ground, take a seat, and have fun sliding down the hill. If you thought this, I commend you for your logic. But by doing this you are taking something that has only a few qualities in common with what you are trying to replace. For one thing, a trash bag isn't made of hard plastic. It is very flexible. Two, because you are just siting on top of a sled it is very easy for you to become disconnected with it as you fly down the hill. For the trash bag, that factor would be even worse because of it's slick nature with not only the snow on the ground but also the cloths that you are wearing. In order for the trash bag to be most effective, you have to become one with it. (oh I see the wheels turning). Yup, that's right. Poke three holes in the trash bag; one for the head, two for the arms and wear it proud!
Now the power to live the life of a penguin is closer than it ever been before. My favorite approach: get a running start and fly down the hill on my stomach. This positions offers great speed (especially if you arch your back creating as little contact with the ground as possible resulting in very little friction) and control. If you are about to run into someone at the bottom of the hill, stick your hands out in front of you and jam the toes of your feet into the snow putting on the breaks.
Now, I must warn you that this method WILL draw attention. When Matt, Lynette, Aletheia, Candice, and I headed out to the hill in our trash bags; head began to turn. I was the first to shoot down the hill, and as I was walking back up the hill I head someone yelling "Miss! Miss!". I turned my head to see the source of the shouts. A young boy pulling a sled even with me on his ascend back up the hill. "Is that a trash bag?" He asked. "Yes it is," I replied with great pride.
Later after witnessing us torpedo down the hill in several different ways, I found myself standing next to the young boy. "I am going to use a trash bag the next time I come," he told me. "Oh yeah?" I replied. "For three reasons," he continued. "One, the are free. Two, they are better. And three, they are just AWESOME." I smiled at him and thought I couldn't agree with him more.
January 14, 2009
It's Snowing!
January 10, 2009
The Disarmed Christmas Re-bash
Talk about opening up a world of possibilities. Basically, we could get them anything that was only limited by own creativeness and of course how well we know the person we drew. I struggled for about a day trying to come up with a gift for a person I didn't really know all that well. I think that hardest part was net telling Lynette the name of the person that I drew so that we could bounce ideas off of each other (don't worry, I held tight to my self-control). Once figured out what I was going to "buy", the next challenge was figuring out how I was going to present the gift.
I wasn't even close to being the most creative one in the ground. One of the staff members dress-up as her gift complete with board shorts and pictures of tropical paradises taped all over her body. (We all were laughing so hard that none of us even thought to whip out a camera. Very disappointing, I know). My gift this year was presented in an envelope labeled "Boss #2" and included my own private island off the coast of Greece and a private airplane to get me and whoever I choose to bring along to this gorgeous island. Oh if only this gift was real!
The Christmas crackers that I brought back for the re-bash had everything that I described except one thing. They made no sound. When I bought them in England, there were fulling intact ready to make their little popping sound. The problem came when I started going through airport security. I put the crackers on the belt to go through the x-ray. When it passed through and made it to the other side, on of the TSA people working asked who the bag belonged to. I claimed it and approached the lady to see what the problem was. My education of Christmas Crackers began.
"Do you mind if I look inside your bag?" She asked.
"Go right ahead," I wondering what the problem was while also reassuring myself that I was a completely innocent person.
"Oh," she said as she looked inside the bag. "I see the problem. Christmas Crackers as not allowed in the cabin of the aircraft. They aren't aloud in the belly of the plane either."
At this point it probably would have been easier for her to say that they aren't aloud on airplanes at all. Holding back my attitude I replied, "okay."
She continued, "The only way they are aloud on the plane is if you disarm the cracker." Then is hit me, the part of the Christmas cracker that makes the cracking sound would be considered to be part of the firework family. Something that is, of course, not aloud on planes.
Completely, unfamiliar with the anatomy of the Christmas cracker, I ask, "How would I go about doing that?"
"You have to go back to the beginning of the security check point, and take out all of the card board strips that are attached to the inside of the crackers."
Decision time. The factors:
Time. I am running slightly late as it is. I have a plane to catch. I would have to go through the growing security line again then open up the nicely sealed box and take out each cracker one by one all the way up to number 12.
Importance. Do I just throw them in the trash and explain the situation to the staff when I get back?
I am amazed how the mind can weigh things so quickly. I grabbed the bag and headed to the area that the TSA lady told me about and started disarming my Christmas crackers at an increasingly fast rate catching some sympathy from people walking by and cardboard cuts on my knuckles. When I finished, I headed back to the line. The lady that looks at identification got up as I approached. She pulled back one of those black, zippy straps and told me to walk this way. It didn't take me long to realize that this secret path caused me to totally bypass the line of people. Here I was again taking off my coat a putting things in my tray for round two.
Round two was beginning to look like round one when that blessed bag of mine with the Christmas Crackers in it got pull aside. Fortunately, my favorite Christmas cracker educator took the bag and I again joined her exclaiming as I approached that I was faithful disarming all 12 of the crackers. Fortunately, she checked a couple and went with her gut which was of course to believe and very honest person like me.
As I claimed the rest of my things and turned on my airport walk speed, I thought about how things could have been worse. The Christmas crackers could have been in my checked bag. I didn't have to think of any other reason. That one thought made what I just experienced totally and completely worth it!
January 7, 2009
Unexpected Stamp on the Passport
January 7, 2009
Snow in Michigan or Chicago is one thing. Snow in Birmingham, England is a completely different story. So when I opened Mark and Hilary's door at 4:30am to head to the airport and was greeted by a light dust of snow, I had a feeling that it was going to be a long day. The flight plan: Birmingham, England to Brussels, Belgium, to Chicago, IL to Indianapolis, IN. Mentally, I had prepared for this day to be a long one anyway. Having to change planes three times never constitutes as a short day.
I was surprised when I arrived at the airport and looked at the screen to see that my flight was delayed only 40mins. I was a bit skeptical at first checking the monitor every ten minutes to find that my flight's status had changed. Yet no change appeared. A glimmer of hope started to rise and a little bit of guilt as well for thinking that England didn't know how to handle snow. I boarded the plane, trying to keep my feelings neutral. We begin to get ready for departure. Then, the PA comes one. "Hello the is the Captain speaking..." I chuckle to myself knowing that this is not the last time I am going to hear this man's voice. "Due to the current weather conditions, the airport is going to close for an hour putting our take off time at an hour and fifteen minutes from now." Translation: get comfortable, we are going to be hear a while.
Five hours later I landed in Brussels after a grand total of 1 hour in flight. I was informed by the flight attendant that weather issues where also occurring on the Brussels side causing all of the connecting flights to be delayed. I figured as much and hoped for the best knowing there was little chance that I was going to make my connection. After landing, I brought to the forefront of my mind that seconds do matter and started booking it toward my gate. As I approached, I gathered my information. No people in the waiting area = not a good sign. A plane still at the gate = good sign. Door to the jet bridge = not a good sign. So far, not so good signs were winning. I approached the desk hoping that whoever was sitting there spoke English. Sure enough he did, but what he said was not what I wanted to hear. I missed my flight by 20 minutes. He then instructed me to go to the costumer service desk to get rerouted. I turned my head in the direction he was pointing; however, I struggled to see the desk that he spoke of because of a HUGE line that had formed.
Fast forward three hours: I approach the customer services desk thinking to myself that I have never waited in a line that long even for a roller coaster at Cedar Point. But, this was not really their fault. Helping people takes time, and it was my turn to see what my options were. Due to me being just over eight hours behind schedule, no other flights would be leaving Brussels that day with the US as its destination. My only option, fly out in the morning to Newark, NJ and then head to Indianapolis.
I have had threats of being put up in hotels in the past but somehow I have always made it back the same day. Not this time. I was to spend the night in Brussels. Well, the competitive side of me didn't mind. Although I possessed a great desire to get home, I didn't mind having to actually walk on the soil of Belgium. The resounding sound of stamp hitting my passport made it all worth it and the fact that this was costing me not one single penny.
It would be nice to end the story there. Leaving you to think that everything went smoothly the next day. But that wouldn't have followed suit with the rest of my travels. All in all it took me about 48 hours to get back from England. The plane from Brussels to England was delayed just enough to cause me to miss yet another connecting flight. Fortunately, I had started my journey that day early enough so that was able to catch the following flight to Indianapolis. Once you past the 36 hour mark, what is another few hours.
