Zhenjiang Boats
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Baby’s First Waterboarding
Beware the Ides of March! Today was not a good day for grandchildren. First mommy (Maren) left on her business trip. This caused Declan to begin crying as she drove away. Later, he ended up face planting, after falling down the front steps. He and Anne were holding onto Puck’s leash, when Puck bolted, like she always does, while going down the steps. Cuts and abrasions accompanied some more Declan tears. Not to be left out, Wyatt entered today’s tale of tragedy and woe when Anne and I took him to very his first swimming lesson at the YMCA. Declan had taken these classes when he was Wyatt’s age. He has graduated to gymnastics, albeit at another YMCA. While we took Wyatt to swim lessons, Declan had fun with David jumping up-and-down on the trampoline.
Somehow, I drew the short straw and was chosen to get into the pool with Wyatt. In the family locker-room, Anne changed him, while I put my swimsuit on. We were late, class had already begun, when we got into the pool. Wyatt was holding onto me for dear life, like I might drop him into the water, as if. Anytime I tried to pull him off me, he would begin crying. So, I let him hug me, while we walked around the pool. This worked for a while, but his patience with this torture eventually grew short and we had to bail. Getting out of the pool, Anne was nowhere to be seen and she had the towels. Wyatt and I were getting colder on the deck in our wet swimwear.
Eventually, she returned from the bathroom, and we could towel him off. Back in the locker-room, we changed back into our dry clothes and left. Across the street we got a snack, some coffee and a bottle for Wyatt. He fell asleep on the drive home. I hope that this gets easier, else this will be a long visit. We’ll try swimming again next weekend, hopefully with more success.
Globe Daises
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Fear of Flying
We got to the airport extra early this morning, not knowing what to expect with unpaid TSA agent’s lines, but everything was hunky-dory. Instead of five-hour long lines, manned by the few remaining, but extra disgruntle agents, we got the five-minute courteous, kind and extra respectful type of security checkpoint. However, we spent the next two-hours waiting at the gate for our flight to board.
The flight was uneventful until about halfway to Boston. I got up to use the toilet. I was closer to the front, so I headed forward. I was waiting my turn, when a disturbance erupted nearby. A couple of unruly passengers got into an argument that quickly escalated into a full fledge fight that spilled into the aisle. The pilot hit the fasten seatbelt light, which seemed like trying to close the barn door after the horses had escaped. My restroom became available and I quickly ducked into it. Coming out again, the fight had gotten much worse. Now there were about a dozen guys going at it, including the flight crew, pilot and copilot. They had left the plane on autopilot and cockpit door wide open. Seeing an opportunity that would never come again, I entered the cockpit, closing the door behind me. I have never flown an airplane for real, but I have cut my teeth on Boeing flight simulators. First fighter jets, but later twin-engine bombers, not too dissimilar to this aircraft. I took it off autopilot and began with some gentle banks back and forth, just to get my feel for the jet. Then remembering what Boeing test pilot Tex Johnson did on the maiden flight of the 707, Boeing’s first commercial jet. I slammed the throttle forward and executed a perfect barrel roll, if I do say so myself. Leveling the aircraft, I reengaged the auto pilot and slipped out of the cockpit. The roll had broken up the fight in the cabin. Stepping over the fallen bodies I returned to my seat. The crew went back to doing their jobs.
Alternatively, our flight was uneventful and while deplaning I asked a flight attendant for permission to photograph the cockpit. I like the first story better. Dave arrived and whisked us away. By then police had swarmed the airport.
At home, Declan was napping and Wyatt was well on his way there too. This gave us ample opportunity to speak with Maren and Dave. Later, the boys awoke and chaos quickly ensued. Sort of like doing continuous barrel rolls in the sky.
Aeonium ‘Black Rose’
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Wanna Get Away?
War with Iran. Gas prices up. Economy going to hell. Epstein! Is it time to run away yet? Well tomorrow, we do jet away. We’ve been home for all of four days. It is time to get moving again. We are flying South-worst this time. Headed to Boston. Gonna be grandparents for a while. Maren working at MIT has a business trip and we are jumping in to help David take care of the boys. It should be fun. This time we have been fortifying ourselves with vitamin C (Airborne), hoping to stave off the usual daycare crude.
Overshadowing this trip is the partial government shutdown. This time around Congress has decided to pay the air traffic controllers. In past shutdowns their work stoppages have eventually ended the shutdowns. Now I do not know how this one will end. The only other inconvenience is the TSA checkpoint. The powers that be have protected themselves by restoring TSA precheck, ensuring that they may still breeze through security, while the rest of us languish, while endlessly waiting for our turn to be searched.
NPR reported both five-hour and five-minute lines, so it is anyone’s guess what we will get. The agents have already missed one paycheck and will miss another next week, so whatever difficulties we encounter this time, it will be worse on the return. Compounding this concern is that we will then be leaving Boston.
Some airports have taken to suggesting that travelers offer the agents gift cards, to show support and help them make ends meet. I say that cash should work just as well and why not call it what it is, a bribe. In third world countries when officials who are not paid make up for this lack of income, they prey upon the citizenry by demanding baksheesh. This is what we have now under this regime.