When I worked at CDC, I traveled quite a bit. Atlanta to DC. Atlanta to various state capitols. Atlanta to Mexico. Atlanta to Europe. Atlanta to just about everywhere. Enough travel to go over a million miles on one airline and about 200,000 on another. More than most, less than some, but too much for me.

So, when I moved to Hilton Head, I really didn’t want to travel. One of the best perks of living in a resort is not having to go through airports. In fact, since I moved here, I’ve only been forced to fly out of our airport two times and one of those was for work. Alas, my idyllic existence was not to last.

I come from a big Irish, Catholic family. Five brothers and sisters still living and a wide array of nieces and nephews, along with their children (great nieces and nephews ??) It’s a good group, but since I have always lived quite a distance from my family, it’s a group that I haven’t seen very often. Much to my disappointment.

For the last 29 years, my sister Kathy and my brother-in-law Carl have opened their home to host a Christmas-time gathering for the entire clan. I have never been able to go, mainly because it seems like a long trip for us for a 4 hour party, but this year my wife and I decided to fly up for the party and spend a few extra days with one of my other sisters, go see the house I grew up in, my old college, and all of that stuff. Also, quite frankly, my self-imposed travel ban was starting to wear thin and I knew I needed to get back on the horse, take off my shoes, empty my pockets, and go through security because beyond TSA, really, beckoned the world.

Airlines are whores. You start off with a price for a round trip ticket and by the time you’re finished  booking your flight, the final price isn’t even in the neighborhood of where you started. Every slight convenience is extra. The whole process reminds me of the innkeeper’s song in Le Miz. I’m actually surprised they don’t charge you extra for “looking in the mirror twice”. Bought the tickets, anyway.

So, we’re at the airport and everything is going just fine until they announce that the incoming flight had a medical emergency and, since they now need to replace the medical equipment on the plane, we will be delayed by 40 minutes. You know, of course, that when airlines have a delay of so many minutes they end up rounding up to the nearest hour. Always. Always. I’m surprised that you don’t know that. Then, we’re finally on the plane (an hour late) and backing away from the gate when the pilot comes on to inform us that, since we are an hour late, we’ve lost our place in the queue going in to the NYC area and air traffic control has put us into a wait. Of course they have. But the good news is, the pilot tells us, that he thinks we can still get in before the snow storm hits the area.

And he does! He makes up time in the air and smoothly lands his craft just as the rain is changing to sleet and then, wait for it, snow. The pilot was great, He did everything to make our trip safe and quick. The problem was that I now had a 100 mile drive directly into a winter storm. Without going into detail, what should have been a 2 hour drive lasted more than 5 1/2 and there were times sliding on 2 lane country roads, with no living soul in sight, and snow coming at the windshield sideways when I actually questioned my hard-earned atheism. But, I made it – safe, sound, and suffering from no religious conversion. I was never so happy to see the lights of White Haven in the distance. If you’ve never seen the lights of White Haven, well, just add it to your bucket list.

The party and visit were great. All that we could have hoped. Chance to connect with a bunch of wonderful people. Then, it was time to head back to the airport.

I was sanguine. The trip up was fraught with inconvenience and peril, the trip back would be uneventful. Right?

Arriving at the gate in Newark, I immediately noticed an unpleasant odor. Immediately. The smell was both unmistakable and overwhelming – bloody awful. By surreptitious reconnoitering, I quickly discovered that the odor was emanating from a tremendously obese woman sitting in the first row of the loading area for our gate. This was a big problem. There was no way that odor was going to be on a closed-ventilation, small aircraft and many of us were not going to lose our lunch. It was that bad, but there really was no choice. Grin and bear it, I guess. Lo and behold (haven’t come across that phrase in a while, have you?), when they began to call our boarding, the woman stood up, went over to another gate, and sat down. My spirits lifted. This would be a good flight. I no longer cared about overcrowding or no leg room or small metal seats with minimum cushioning or paltry snacks or flight attendants with attitude or no ventilation or packed overheads. this was going to be just fine. Then I realized, the airlines must employ this woman and hundreds like her to fan out among the many gates at many airports and raise the passengers’ alarm. Then, when they do not actually board your flight, your so relieved that you’ll put up with all of the miseries that airlines love to inflict. I think I’m right here. Oh, like airlines aren’t that devious.

So, I’m boarding my flight and in a great mood (just like United had orchestrated) and there is an old woman seated directly behind my seat and sitting with her daughter. I’m feeling frisky and friendly, so I say hello and she says to me with a scowl, “I hope you don’t plan to put your seat back because I’ve got strong legs”. I, of course, think she must be kidding since no one could be that nasty to someone saying hello to them and, besides, I saw her getting on the plane in a wheelchair. How strong could her legs be? So, I make some friendly rejoinder and sit down. Immediately, my back is pounded and the entire seat is shaking. I jump up, look at her and say, “What the hell are you doing?” She says, ‘I told you don’t move that seat back.” I told her that I haven’t moved my seat back at all and my tone was no longer at all friendly. I sit back down and she continues to batter me and my seat until her daughter says, “Mother, stop that.” (Don’t know where that advice was earlier.) She said, “His seat is back too far”, but at least finally she stopped kicking . After the flight, when I was waiting for my luggage, I saw her breeze by, again in a wheelchair. Wheelchair my ass, my spinal column can attest that her legs were stronger than any fullback’s.

I loved seeing my family. All in all, the trip was well worth the pain, but whatever happened to “over the river and through the woods”? We’ll go again next year. It’ll be the 30th anniversary. But, we’re definitely gonna drive. I think people on the roads will be really nice. They are, right?