We arrived at LAX a little before 5am for the 6:15am flight to Atlanta, where we were to have a 4+ hour lay-over before heading into Pittsburgh.
I kept setting off the metal detector - they had me walk through the detector 3 times, asking what could be setting it off, and after my pockets were turned inside out, I was pulled
aside for special treatment.
The metal detector was set so high that the hooks on my bra (which I don't usually mess with) set it off. Nothing like a little
strip tease at 5am in the cold fluorescent lighting of the Delta terminal to get a trip off on the right foot.
Also don't normally mess much with my hair, but I hate when it's pulled by the carry-on's shoulder strap, so I had it 'up', and held in place with
a big barette.
Finally they determined the big barette was setting off the metal detector.
Once on the plane, we splurged on headsets, but the bad Meg Ryan movie was out-of-phase in peasant class. Out-of-phase is when the colors are 180° off. Meg had blue hair, and not a nice shade like
Marge Simpson's - more of a washed out, glowing dirty denim color, and it clashed with her puce-and-pumpkin-ish flesh tones.
No major problems in Atlanta, except they kept moving the gate we were supposed to leave from.
Finally, we landed in Pittsburgh, picked up the rent-a-car, and headed north in a torrential downpour.
Normally, we'd fly on into Bradford (BFD - the most accurately named airport in America), but it now costs as much to fly from LA to Pittsburgh
as it does to fly from Pittsburgh to Bradford (we could rent a car for a week for the price of one ticket into BFD, so...). Bradford is
home to Zippo lighters and
Case cutlery. There are large
displays of both at the airport.
There had been a snack on the early flight, and only beverages on the 2nd, so around 9pm we stopped in Harrisville for something to eat.
The kid ordered his usual burger and fries, and being accustomed to California fast food from the corporate microwaves,
he kept asking what was taking so long.
Told him to listen to the sizzle coming from the kitchen, and explained that there were live people back there actually
cooking raw meat just for him, not a pre-cooked microwaved product being placed in some sort of paper wrapper.
We exited I-80 in Hazen because it was raining so hard. Figured I'd rather take my chances on the hilly rural roads than the interstate.
Finally, we crested Boot Jack, took a detour around Ridgway, and headed up 219 to 'Burg, arriving a little before midnight.
Nothing like the sweet stench of home - the aroma of the paper mill (the locals explain that it smells like 'bread & butter' to them),
proceeds anything visual. When I was little, the predominant smell was sulphur-based. Now, it's more like something too-long dead with an underlying scent of aged, dirty diapers.
Dear old dad was waiting up, and there was a case of Straub's chilling in the refrigerator. The locals refer to it as
St. Marys piss water, but I like it. A lot.
In the local parlance, we shot the shit a while then called it a day.
While unpacking, found a note from the TSA in the kid's suitcase. Pretty much stated they pawed through it - they didn't get the clothes back in it completely, and his one good
shirt was left hanging out, where it was shredded by abrasion. That's when I came to the conclusion that 'TSA' stands for 'Tough Shit, America'. They can screw up, you have no recourse, and it's 'tough shit'.
He had only clothes & deodorant in his suitcase. Nothing metal, nothing peculiar, nothing forbidden - not even a pair of shoes or any books. Just clothes & his deodorant.
First thing in the morning, in spite of the raging humidity, the kid had to inspect Dad's garden, the woods beyond the property line, the railroad tracks and the Clarion River.
Then we got in the rent-a-car & headed up to what we always called the dam, but is now called the East Branch Clarion River Lake, over some Rasselas back roads
(a lot of this area was strip mined in the 40s & 50s - wanted to show the kid why it's so vile & short-sighted), and finally
down to Bendigo, where the reunion was to be held.
Then we stopped by Lil's - she was Dad's secretary for over 40 years, and pretty much counts as family. She's wonderfully plain-spoken, and feisty as ever, in spite of some health issues. She's also one of the best cook's I've ever known. She sent us
home with 2 kinds of home-canned peppers and a strawberry-rhubarb pie.
Friday we had to drive back to Pittsburgh to pick up Cal. His flight took him to Philly, then to Pittsburgh, but it was delayed, so instead of landing at the scheduled 10:20pm, it was nearly 2am when we left the airport, and got back to 'Burg around 5:30am.
We slept a bit then headed off to the family reunion, which was celebrating its 50th anniversary.
Had quite a turnout - over 150 - although it seems that Dad and his siblings were having a contest to see who could guilt the most offspring into showing up.
Great Aunt Louise and Great Aunt Rose, both in their 90's, ruled the festivities, and represented the oldest generation present. Dad, at 82, is the oldest male.
Cousins came from NY, Philly, DC, Pittsburgh, Ohio, and a bunch of points in-between - the kid, Cal & I are the western-most part of the clan.
Cousin Nancy put the whole thing together and did a great job - especially for someone who doesn't live in the area.
Games were played, pictures taken, and we all lied to each other about how good we all looked.
The festivities ended when it was time to head off to the 'anticipated' Mass (you can attend an 'anticipated' Mass on Saturday night and have it count for Sunday) at 5pm.
That evening, we all went to Aunt Vivian's (Dad's 'baby' sister) where a bunch of out-of-towners were staying, and the really good food came out.
His oldest sister, 'Regular' Aunt Rose wasn't at the reunion - she has osteoporosis and is a bit fragile
for the terrain at Bendigo, but she did make the trip up from DuBois and was at Aunt Vivian's, too.
More games were played, more pictures were taken, and more lies were told.
The feeding frenzy continued at Aunt Vivian's on Sunday, with enough homemade macaroni (that's what they call it, they never use the word 'pasta') to feed a small army.
Sunday afternoon Dad took us out target shooting. The kid improved his .22 marksmanship, and got a kick out using a shotgun for the first time.
Then we went fishing, where the kid saw polliwog eggs and a frog that still had it's tail. He also caught his first rainbow trout, which was returned to the water, unharmed.
Monday was spent driving Cal back to Pittsburgh to catch his flight home, and then on Wednesday, the kid & I drove back to Pittsburgh, again, to catch our flight home.
The trip was too short, and didn't get to visit as many pals as I'd have liked. That means you, Willow.
On this trip through the airport I couldn't find my ID (turned out it was in my already checked suitcase), so once again, was singled out for special treatment.
Things I learned on this trip:
* People working for the airlines are stretched way too thin.
* The airlines have placed too many seats on their planes. When my boney ass is too big for a seat, and my stumpy legs too long to sit comfortably, there's a problem.
* Airports have lost their individuality - they all have the same crappy over-priced fast-food outlets and the same over-priced Chinese-made souvenirs where the only difference is the 'local' name stamped on it.
* The Orange Belt through Sewickley is more fun than any old E-ticket attraction at Disneyland.
More to follow.
~ ~ ~
Note: I had planned to update from PA, but, stuff happened.
Thanks to Cousin Joe, dear old Dad has a Mac, and figured I could puzzle it out. Sent myself templates, in a couple of formats, for all the days we'd be gone. Did all the TV stuff for 2 weeks, just in case.
Even sent myself artwork to be used since I wouldn't have access to what's on this computer.
Best laid plans & all that crap...
Anyway, I think that most of the problems could have been avoided if I'd had a laptop.
Have a birthday coming up - and there's always Christmas. Hint. Hint.
