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Thursday, January 20
Well, here it is - the last minute. In exactly 14.5 hours from right now, we'll be in Mary's truck and on our way 89 miles South to Omaha's Eppley Airfield. After 10 months of hoping, dreaming, planning (and of course spending), cruise time is almost here.
It's been an interesting past month, though. Doesn't it always seem that when you're about to go on vacation, something goes wrong? Let's see. In the past month, we've dealt with: A totaled car, a death in the family, a broken hot water tank, purchasing replacements for the car and the hot water tank, several days where local temps didn't climb above zero, a couple of freezing rain ice storms, the mad dash of the Christmas season, and a rotten cat that has apparently decided that using a litter box is either too much work or beneath him, for he now opts to soil the floor beside it instead. True, some of these issues are more serious than others, but still - I'll be glad to leave all of that behind.
Our reservations are all set, my tux is confirmed, the flights are scheduled to be on time (so far), and the weather looks like it may hold out long enough for us to get out of Cowtown. I've got two jumbo suitcases jammed full with everything you can imagine that are mostly packed - day clothes, dinner clothes, disposable underwater cameras, an alarm clock, my snorkel and goggles, and of course The Beans. Heaven knows we can't leave town without those.
For the sake of making it through the security checkpoints, I've actually opened the cans and dumped the beans out, so that anyone wondering why I'm importing canned produce into their country will know that there's nothing to worry about. So yes - the bean can and label are traveling, but not the beans themselves. (I know, it's cheating a bit. But it sure beats having to explain what's going on to Los Federales in my 20-year old high school Spanish...)
Anyway, the time has come for me to continue this epic novel from the trip. No more talking about it - let's do it. What type of adventures will we have? What will we see? What will we do? Which adult beverages will we drink lots and lots of?
Ah, that's where the fun begins...
Friday, January 21
Our adventure starts in the same manner they usually do - well before sunrise. One of these days I'll have to see what it's like to go on a vacation that doesn't require getting up before the roosters. But not this time - I've got places to go, cruises to take. So up and at 'em!
At 4:15 I shake Mary awake, and fortunately for everyone involved (mainly me), she was a fairly good sport at being awaken at such an ungodly hour. While she showered I packed a few last minute things, and then at the stroke of 5:00 (still way before any daylight) we were out the door, in her Blazer, and on our way to Omaha.
The weather was holding out for the most part; the forecast was calling for freezing rain, and sure enough, before long a light mist of rain/ice started falling. The fog was also pretty thick, and we hoping that it wouldn't lead to freezing fog, as that would really complicate things. It was our hope to be in the air and out of the Midwest long before the weather could get really ugly.
We made it to Omaha around 6:45 (the drive was a little slower than usual, thanks to the ice), and went to Stewart's Parking Garage. Stewart's is a small lot about two miles from the airport that we've parked with before. It's not fancy, but we're only parking the car. Besides, it's not like the Blazer needs to stay in the Ritz Carlton parking lot. I was really proud of myself that I'd found a great discount coupon online for Stewart's - indoor parking for only $3.75 a day! For those of you in larger cities, who usually end up paying that much for 5 minutes of airport parking, ain't that a great airport parking rate? Let your jealousy shine, people! Anyway, I was thrilled to have my $3.75 a day coupon, which I proudly presented to the half-sleepy cashier. It was then that I noticed hanging on the wall their regular parking rates: Indoor parking: $3.95 a day. So my super-saver coupon was saving us a whopping 20 cents a day. I suppose technically it's still a victory, but I was no longer feeling so superior about it.
We sat in the Stewart's office for a few minutes while the cashier called "George", their backup driver to shuttle us over to the airport. I overheard her telling George to get his butt out of bed and get down there, which wasn't a good sign, but sure enough ol' George rolled in a couple of minutes later, so apparently he either lives nearby or your $3.75 a day coupon rate also means your vehicle is subleased out as a motel.
So around 7:00 George (who looked and sounded a lot like Billy Bob Thornton) dropped us off at the Continental entrance, and we quickly made our way through check-in and the TSA inspection. I was warned at the last moment to remove any unexposed film from my luggage, as the TSA Super-Mondo-Screener-XG5000® (a product of Halliburton, I'm sure) would wipe the film clean, so in the middle of the aisle I had to unzip my big bag and fish out my underwater cameras and cram them into my carry-on. Okay, it worked, and everyone in line got to see my underwear. At least they were clean.
After checking in and confirming that the flights were still on time (yea!), we stopped at the espresso stand at the top of the ramp and bought a couple of jumbo lattes, then made our way towards the next part of the TSA fiesta - the gate screening. As someone who has "enjoyed" being practically cavity searched by the TSA goons in the past, I was prepared this time, and all metal was off, except for my wedding ring, glasses frames, and the zipper on my pants. (And if I thought it'd get me through without having to be felt up by Mr. Hands, I'd have gladly removed at least two of them...) So we sent our carry-ons through the x-ray machine and walked right through - no beeping, no hassles, no involuntary cupping from a fat man in a clip-on tie.
But it was funny to watch two other passengers try to go through - people who obviously had no idea what the TSA did for a living. One was an older woman in a purple head-to-toe stretch jumpsuit who was wearing King Tut's jewelry, and seemed to be positively miffed that she'd have to remove it. Her junk jewelry was truly impressive - drag queens everywhere would've weeped with envy. Over her purple stretch outfit she had a golden belt with links the size of small dinner plates. She also wore matching earrings that reminded me of gilded hubcaps, and a gold necklace that would have made Mr. T. proud. She griped that she had to remove all of her baubles, but she eventually did make it through the metal detector. Let's all hope that she wasn't on her way to the Oscars or something - Mr. Blackwell would've had a field day with her Cleopatra-Meets-Polyester ensemble.
The other one that made me laugh was the family directly in front of us at the screening. It was another older couple (can you sense a pattern here?) and the wife's equally ancient friend/sister/complaining partner. These ladies complained in unison all the way down the ramp and through the screening while the husband (who was riding along in a wheelchair) slumped forward and pretended to block them out. But the real fun was when the screener x-rayed his carry-on bag and found a (gasp!) small pair of scissors. Well, that set the ladies off with a line of curse words you wouldn't normally expect to hear from people of their age bracket. They told the TSA agent to throw out the *$%&^%* scissors, and how would he be so $%&(^%) stupid to pack (*^(*&%* scissors, and why did he even need to have @%^$(&^% scissors anyway... They went on and on, until the old man finally spoke up. And did he apologize? Did he defend himself? Nope. Here was his explanation, verbatim:
"I needed to trim my ear hair."
Important lesson for the day, my friends: That's probably not the best excuse to use in such situations.
Okay, back to the trip. (Sorry about that aside, but the rest of our time in Omaha was rather dull, so I had to spice this page up somehow.) They loaded the plane on time, and after a quick trip through the de-icer spray, we were in the air and on our way to Houston. The flight was uneventful, except for this side story:
One row over and up from where we were was an old guy seated on the aisle who asked the flight attendant for tomato juice when she came by with the cart. She said okay, and asked the two people next to him what they'd like. So she passed the other two people their drinks first, and I watched him grab her arm. "Excuse me, but I believe I asked you for tomato juice." Without missing a beat, she said, "Relax, honey - I only have two hands." Everyone around him heard this, and being the early morning sympathetic co-passengers we were, we immediately laughed at the Ugly American being dressed down by the flight attendant. Schmuck. I'm still kind of surprised that she didn't "accidently" spill the tomato juice in his lap; it would've served him right.
That being taken care of, we had just over two hours in Houston to kill before our connecting flight to Tampa, so we hiked over towards our next gate, then made our way to the airport's second floor, where a Fox Sports Bar was set up. Hamburgers and fries for breakfast? Well, yeah - it was almost 11:30, and it was the closest thing we could find. So we went up to the sports bar, which was heavily decorated with NASCAR theming and had huge caricatures of such FOX sports dignitaries as Howie Long, Terry Bradshaw, and just about every other FOX talking head painted on the walls.
The waitress was really nice, and while we looked through the menu trying to decide what to have (what will it be - 'Howie's Ravishing Reuben' or 'JB's BBQ Pork?'), she brought us a couple of sweet teas. We finally settled on a bacon cheeseburger for me, and a bowl of tortilla soup for Mary. The food was good, and fortunately the volume on most of the 99 TVs around us was turned down.
After lunch we wandered the airport for a while, looking for a postcard to send home to Katie. We did eventually find a nice local postcard, but you'd think in an airport that size there'd be at least one mailbox, right? Hah. You could find "Waldo" easier. We did find a Starbucks so Mary could have latte #2 of the morning (it's okay - it's vacation!), and then we walked back towards the gate to sit and wait. It wasn't that bad of a wait - we amused ourselves by watching the airport janitors "buff" the shoe marks off the tile floor by using a tennis ball attached to a long stick. They'd rub the tennis ball on the mark, and voila! I wonder if Hints from Heloise knows about this one yet.
We boarded right on time - another jammed pack flight - but we were on time leaving, and arrived in Tampa right on time without any incidents worth mentioning. There weren't any obvious Ugly Americans on this flight; in fact, we sat really close to an older priest, so we figured we were in good hands.
We got to Tampa at 4:45 Eastern, and after another quick stop-off at El Bano Del Hermanos (where I overheard a guy in a stall talking on his cell phone), we made our way across their mini-monorail towards baggage claim and the rental car desk. I went over to see the guys at Thrifty Car Rental while Mary got our bags, and after convincing the Thrifty guy that yes, I was smarter than he thought, and yes, I knew the consequences of not accepting his $30 a day insurance program, I had the keys to a green Ford Taurus in my hands, and soon Mary and I had our bags and were on our way out of the Tampa airport.
We quickly found the rental car on the second floor of the parking garage, and while the car was basic and reeked of too much Lysol, it suited our needs for the 48 hours we'd have it. By 5:30 we were on the road and outta there.
But it was only 5:30, and it was sunny and 72 degrees. Should we just go towards the hotel, check in, and just take it easy? Nuts to that. We headed West towards Clearwater Beach to watch the sunset. And after fighting the nasty Friday rush hour traffic across the bridge, we did make it to Clearwater just in time to watch the last embers of the sun disappear into the Gulf. Let me tell you - it was worth every mile of that drive to watch. Aaaah, sunshine and warmth. Something us Iowans don't truly comprehend in mid-January.
T-Minus 14:30:00
(Or: I can't wait to start this thing!)
3:40 AM
We got to Houston right on time, and then spent the next 15 minutes (no kidding) taxiing in from the runway to the gate. Wow, everything really is bigger in Texas! We were glad to get off that packed airplane, and I was even happier to find that magical sign that said "Men/Hermanos". Without being crude, let's just say that a large coffee, a Diet Coke, and a middle seat on a long flight don't make good company.
Having said goodbye to the sun, we then drove back towards Tampa, stopping off at the local Joe's Crab Shack restaurant for a t-shirt for Katie (who thinks a shirt that says "Joes Knows Crabs" is the funniest thing in the world - teens, go figure), then we headed up I-275 to the hotel.
We were booked through Hotwire at the Holiday Inn Busch Gardens, which turned out to be a few blocks from Busch, but since we weren't going to visit there anyway, what did we care? While it was considerably older than I expected, the hotel was nice, clean, and the staff was very friendly. We were kind of worried at first; as we pulled up there were busloads of teen cheerleaders arriving, but fortunately they were all housed in a separate building, and we never saw/heard them.
Having checked in, it dawned on us that we'd not eaten anything since our Howie Long Burgers oh so long ago, so we went out in search of something "local". Now, when traveling I believe it's always a good idea to try the local cuisine. It just seems silly to me to travel thousands of miles away from home and end up at Burger King eating the same mediocre food you could have had 6 blocks from your house. Besides, we were now in a land where such miraculous delicacies such as FRESH SEAFOOD could be had, so that's what we went looking for. Know what? We found it.
We ended up at a local place called "Shells Seafood", which served up some mighty good seafood combo plates - crab cakes, fish, shrimp, scallops - all freshly prepared and 100% delicious. Washed down with several sweet teas, it was a perfect meal and a great way to wrap up a long day.
We had talked about going out to find a mini-golf course, but by this point it was almost 9:30 and we were both pretty much wiped out. So we put our interstate mini-golf rivalry on hold for now, and instead went back and jumped in the hotel's pool. The pool was HUGE - probably 40 yards in length, and we had it entirely to ourselves. It has shallow ends on both ends, and in the middle the depth was just over 6 feet. But the best part? The heat was cranked in the pool - it felt more like a jacuzzi than a huge swimming pool. Just what our tired bones needed to relax. No exaggeration here - it was probably the nicest hotel pool I've ever been in.
We floated around for a while, then trogged back to our room, good and tired. It wasn't long before we were both dead asleep, dreaming of the next part of our journey.
(c) 2005 Kevin C. Burk All rights reserved.