I left for Africa in 2006 with a case of poison oak so bad that I had to go to an infirmary in the Paris airport for medical treatment. Just before our (disastrous) Sierra Club hiking trip in 2007, we were dealing with Skyline High School and Oakland Unified School District and their refusal to let Corinne take Advanced Drama for the next school year. I was sending e-mails up until flight time and trying desperately to get the issue resolved. At the same time, my mother-in-law had surgery in northern Michigan that went wrong. Dean and I left the country worrying about her health, as well as Corinne's school problems.
My memories of beginning bicycle trips when I was in my 20's are growing foggy now, but I know there were pre-trip sprained ankles, stitches, and missing items. One year, I was taking the Greyhound Bus back east and missed my bus when I stopped for lunch in some town. Maybe it was the same year: I caught Amtrak from NY to Washington DC and my toilet article bag was stolen out of a piece of checked luggage! That was really a nightmare because I had to replace my glasses.
These stories are meant to point out the steep competition for "worst start ever". But when Evan came home from college deathly ill and had to be hospitalized on June 25th, we were not sure whether we would be leaving the country on July 9th for this trip.
"At least we have trip insurance," I said, blithely. I knew from experience that so many things can go wrong, best to pay for a good trip insurance plan.
One week ago today (July 1), when the doctor called and told us Evan just has mono, I could have jumped for joy. After 5 days in the hospital for infected lymph nodes, pneumonia, and hepatitis, we had been worried sick. Since we had initially been told that mono was ruled out, the scariest part had been wondering what horrible disease had turned our healthy 20-year-old into an invalid. Once the Epstein -Barr virus was identified, all the other diagnoses made sense. Evan was cleared to return to Seattle and we began packing for our trip.
On Wednesday afternoon (July 8), I actually felt quite pleased with my preparation. I had gotten all the necessary paperwork done at the office, arranged all the details for Corinne and the house-sitters, and just had to pack up my things.
Wednesday evening, we took Corinne out for a sushi dinner and returned home to find a commotion across the street from our house. I thought some boys were beating a dog, but it turned out their pit bull had just killed the black cat that hangs out by our house. It was very upsetting and I don't think any of us were thinking clearly, but Dean should have known better than to do what he did. He got on his cell phone and called the police, in front of the kids.
They left with the dog, but a group came back later and smashed bricks into the car windows on our Volvo. Immediately, none of our plans for the home front would work. We could not have young women come and stay with Corinne at our house under the circumstances and we had to deal with the wrecked car.
I called my sister-in-law, Ellen, and sobbed to her about what had transpired. Without a pause, she offered to host Corinne and our 2 dogs for the entire trip.
So much of the past 24 hours is now a blur. I called to cancel and reschedule our flight and ground transportation, discovering that the "trip insurance" Dean bought was a complete joke. I had thought we had insurance covering everything; instead, he had purchased insurance only on the actual flight. And when we tried to use it, we found that the policy covers 32 things, but not becoming the victim of a crime. It was $59.00 thrown down the toilet.
This is the current status of things: our car is at the glass repair shop. When that work is completed, they will deliver it to the auto body shop, where Dean has a good relationship with the owner, Enoch. Enoch will then store our car for us for the duration of our trip.
Corinne and the dogs are in Walnut Creek. On school days, she will take a taxi to BART, then BART to Laney College for her chemistry class.
Michael, Ellen, and Elena have opened their home to our 3 family members. I cried in my brother's arms. When life goes to hell for me, I immediately cry because I no longer have parents to help me out or comfort me. But my older brother is the next best thing.
We have locked every door and window in our house. Our friend Mark Ross has promised to come over regularly to check on things and water the plants.
The ride to the airport was wild. Our Indian driver gave us a very good deal and he seemed quite nice. However, he did make and receive a lot of telephone calls (on several different phones) and he had a tendency to hit the braille bumps on the left side of the road way too often.
I was in an extremely bad mood by the time we checked in for our flight. I think the stress of the past day was catching up with me. Also, I had not eaten a bite of food between breakfast at 7:30 am and 6:00 pm. When the station agent told us it would cost $75 to check a 2nd bag (in addition to the $50 per bicycle charge) I was almost apoplectic. Of course, we did not check the 3rd bag, but carried it to the cabin with us.
Last time I flew, I accidentally left a swallow of water in my bottle. It became an airport security nightmare. I was not allowed to either drink it or pour it out; instead, a tester was summoned to pronounce it harmless-----THEN it was poured out.
Today, I was thorough. I drank every drop from my water bottle. When the bag went through security and the man said, "you have liquid in your bag", I immediately snapped back: "Nope! It's empty!"
He pulled out my bag and there was the mango drink, kindly given to my by our Indian chauffeur.
Did I mention my foul mood? Dinner and a beer helped, then we sat around for 45 minutes, waiting for our delayed flight. At dinner, I couldn't find my wallet and panicked. It was simply hiding in my bag. When the boarding was called for our flight, I reached in to get my boarding pass and passport: the passport was missing! I searched all my carry-on things. I raced back to the bathroom. I ran further, back to the restaurant. No luck. Dean kept calling me on the cell phone: "Get back here! The plane is going to leave!"
The whole plane was loaded as the airline agent watched my dump my entire bag onto the floor. Voila! Passport found! We dashed to the plane. We struggled to find bins for our things. I opened my pouch to make sure I still had the passport and boarding pass. Where did they go? Just then, the steward (looking cross) came to my seat and shoved the passport into my hands. "Hold on to it!" he commanded. I buckled up and began writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment