...and the next thing I knew I was in Idaho

After weeks of idle time on reserve and no flying, I received a call Sunday morning to go to Salt Lake City to sit reserve. This was somewhat exciting because I was beginning to tire of sitting around doing nothing. In my head, I envisioned Salt Lake to be warmer than Minneapolis, but when I checked my phone, it was 30 degrees. Nevertheless, I had no intention of spending all evening sitting in the hotel (which by the way allowed pets, so I found myself suffering from congestion). I put on a hat and gloves, donned my jacket, and headed out for dinner. I stopped at a place called The Bayou for some cajun cuisine. Sure, Utah may not be known for its gumbo or jambalaya, but one can't always be choosy. I ended up ordering something called gumbolaya - a mixture of the two signature dishes. On the menu, it jokingly warned that eating this concoction guaranteed cardiac arrest. Just for an extra kick, I tossed in a little bit of Louisiana hot sauce. I thoroughly enjoyed my southern cuisine . . . in northern Utah.

After my meal, I decided to walk toward Temple Square. It wasn't super close and it was quite frigid out, but the trek was worth it. The entire square was illuminated with christmas lights of all colors. The mormons were admiring the lights as well. How do I know they were mormons? Naturally it is too cold to be sporting white short-sleeved dress shirts and black ties. In winter months, it appears they don pea coats and put their name tags on their outermost garment.  And now you know. . .

As I lay in bed that night, congested from the 87 cats that must have at one time occupied my room, I periodically woke up and checked my phone to see if the airline had assigned me a trip. I got a call at 4:40am. Time to go to work. I would be flying to Twin Falls, Idaho. When I was told this, I didn't even know where it was on a map. Turns out it is just a short hop from Salt Lake City. Twin Falls seemed eager to give Minneapolis a run for its money with a temperature of 1º. I may or may not have conducted the walkaround at a brisker pace than usual. I looked the town up on google after flying back to Salt Lake, and it looks like it might be a nice place, but I was too busy chattering my teeth and convulsing to observe much beyond the small airport terminal.

     Meanwhile in Los Angeles . . .

Happy Thanksgiving

There has been a gap since my last post because nothing has happened. I have been sitting around in Minneapolis waiting for a call that never comes. Sitting on reserve in this distant land they call Minnesota is not always pleasant. While I ensure that my name is on the preferred call list and despite having recurring dreams of receiving a flight assignment, my phone has been silent.

Last week, I reached out to a variety of folks who were in the area in an attempt to remain social. On Tuesday, I met with a friend from LA on an interview in Minneapolis. On Wednesday, a fellow airline pilot on reserve. His name is Lorenzo, so I naturally met him for lunch at a place called "Fat Lorenzo's." It was hidden on the back side of a VA building and I can only recommend it if you like being around old people and garlic. On Thursday, I reunited with a friend from my high school. As she put it, I am in a unique position. I can arrange my own high school reunion, but only meet with the people I actually care to see. In any event, I was able to slightly break up the monotony of last week by engaging in that basic human need called conversation. This week, however, is a different story.

During my brief return to sunny Los Angeles, I was welcomed by 80 degree temperatures. Numerous people were out cycling and jogging on the beach paths. We ate outside in Long Beach wearing t-shirts. I mention all this to contrast with my return to Minnesota. Early Thanksgiving morning, I drove to the airport to pick up my EFB (electronic flight bag). On the way home, it was raining. Shortly after that, it turned to snow. And because it was a mere 28 degrees, it stuck. This created a very different image than my visit to Long Beach harbor a few days prior.

My fellow pilots were called up to do some flying on Thanksgiving and anyone else normally in town had left for the holiday. I spent the day alone snacking on muffins, macaroni, and Kix cereal . . . just like the pilgrims and native Americans. I felt a bit cooped up. On Black Friday, I decided I was going to leave the comfort of central heating and face an environment that just looked cold.

I decided to go for a run on the nearby trails in Minnetonka. I planed to head out in the heat of the day, so I asked Siri what the temperature was and even she was a bit apprehensive about what I was about to do. I put on my only long-sleeved running shirt, a pair of gloves, a hat, and a pair of swishy athletic pants that harken back to 1999. Initially I felt like a true badass. Clearly nobody was as mentally tough and fierce as I to face such bitter temperatures. . .


Wrong. There were just as many people out running and biking on the trails as there were in Los Angeles when I ventured out a few days earlier. And keep in mind that there is a layer of snow on the ground. There is evidently a market for wide snow tires for bikes in Minneapolis. Many of those out running didn't even have hats or gloves. I don't know how this is possible. It takes a certain kind of person to live here. That person is not me. Sure, you can call me weak and feeble, but just remember that it was I who went for a run when it was 25º. I deserve some sort of pat on the back . . . or a jacket.

My Way or the Skyways

Well, I am back for another week in the twin cities. Rather than continually rent and return cars, I found it slightly cheaper to rent on the long-term. When you think rugged, versatile, and tough enough to handle the harsh Minnesota winters, you do not think Volkswagen Beetle. Nevertheless, this will be my car for the next month. Those with a keen eye will notice the Georgia plates as well. So not only will I be driving a poorly designed vehicle -- it is also unlikely to have been winterized in any way, shape, or form. Nothing in this vehicle is laid out in a manner that is driver-friendly. Let me roll down the window...oops there go the windshield wipers again. Oops now the radio is scanning. Oops, now the defroster is on full blast and the hood popped open, and I somehow changed the clock. In all honesty though, I spent about 20 minutes fighting with the trunk, which would neither open nor close. I eventually pried it open from the inside by crawling into the truck from the backseat and forcing it out while holding the trunk release button on the remote. After slamming it shut, I'm now afraid to open it ever again. I am sure the Beetle and I will have many more exciting adventures like this in the coming month. I think I shall name it Beulah.

A friend of mine from L.A. was in Minneapolis for business and doing important lawyering stuff, so I thought it might be good to meet up. It was my first true trip to downtown. I soon discovered that the downtown area is canvassed in these things called skyways. And I can't really convey how ridiculous this is until you actually see it. You could walk for miles from building to building without ever setting foot outside. You may be thinking to yourself, "Gosh, that's really neat!" and shortly thereafter you may also think "Holy shit, how bad does the weather in Minneapolis get to justify building skyways around the whole city?!" It is a strange concept. They are not merely walkways from one building to the next. It's an entire city in its own right. If you need to go from your place of work to go pick up a prescription, get a haircut, grab some lunch, deposit a check, meet someone at a convention center, check-in to a hotel, or go shopping, it's all on the skyway level. It's like living in a bubble.

Admittedly, skyways would have sounded nice in D.C. on some of those cold winter days during college, but I think there's something psychologically important about getting outside, even if it is chilly out. There is another Skyway system set up in St Paul as well. This all makes me very nervous. There's no skyway system in D.C. because nobody has ever thought of building one, and so far nobody has died from not having a skyway with the exception of William Henry Harrison. So if two cities think it's a good idea to have them . . . should I invest in a parka?

Completing Week One in MSP

For my final day in Minneapolis, I drove to a place called Minnehaha Park. It claimed to have a waterfall, so I was intrigued. It was a bit blustery and overcast -- not really ideal weather to be going for a stroll, but at 49 degrees, it is important to have perspective and remember that this area of the country has the potential to be much, much colder. After a short walk, I found the falls and wandered along the river bank for a mile or so. By now pretty much everything is dead. Only a few rogue leaves cling to the trees. 

Later in the day it began to rain. This did not stop for about 20 hours. Imagine now that the temperature was 10-15º colder. It was estimated that it would have resulted in 2 1/2 FEET of snow. That doesn't sound appealing at all. I departed this land of 10,000 lakes and (I can't believe I'm saying this) unseasonably high temperatures to return to much nicer weather back in Los Angeles. It was about 80 degrees my first day back.

For a while now, Nicole has wanted to stay in this quaint looking place down the street called the Inn at Playa del Rey. It's essentially a bed-and-breakfast overlooking the Ballona Creek Wetlands -- a view that momentarily makes you forget that this is all in Los Angeles. As a treat to ourselves, we made the arduous 1 mile trip down the street to the Inn. I was happy with our decision when we found chocolate chip cookies waiting for us in the room. In fact, there was a lot of free food. Wine, cheese, and other appetizers at 5:00pm. All free. For dinner we walked down the street to Mo's Place, a dive bar that Nicole surprisingly enjoys. It is, in fact, the inspiration for Moe's Tavern in the Simpsons. 

We spent the rest of the evening playing the board game LIFE, and drinking wine. Nicole was not completely satisfied to have retired as a police officer/computer programmer with no children. I, on the other hand, with my veterinarian expertise and law degree found that my two twin daughters were a burden to my bank account from the moment they entered my life. And why the hell was I buying sailboats and going to art auctions? This is not responsible behavior.

Breakfast at the Inn consisted of fresh-baked muffins, blueberry bread, and cheese soufflé. All for free. I like free food. It was a very relaxing getaway . . . even if it was only a few blocks away from our apartment.

Mall of America, Ferris Wheels, and Surly's

Yesterday I stayed pretty close to home . . . and by home I mean someone else's home because I have been living out of a tiny suitcase for the last two weeks. I don't even have my pilot blazer. I have but two short-sleeved pilot t-shirts to my name right now. Everything else is still in L.A. hoping to find a purpose in life if I ever return. Now initially, I had it all planned out. I would have my girlfriend ferry some warmer clothes to me when she came to visit me last week over Halloween weekend. However, if you look back to Halloween weekend in this blog, I was in Charleston. You can see the issue. Yes, Nicole had looked forward to a festive pumpkin-spiced midwestern weekend of handing out candy to children and jumping in leaves and such. This was not to be when I got called up to redirect my body to South Carolina, AND to make matters worse there weren't even any trick or treaters at the house!!! Well, if that doesn't show the decline of America, I don't know what does. The YouTube comments tell me Obama is somehow to blame for all this.

Fortunately the weather has been unseasonably warm, which is fine by me. After all, the prospect of doing a walk around in North Dakota in freezing rain wearing nothing more than a short-sleeved pilot shirt is not very appealing. Around 2:00 today, and nine hours into my reserve, I ventured off to the Mall of America to see what all the fuss is about. It is indeed a mall, and I really had no purpose in being there. I didn't really intend to do any shopping. I had, in effect, become one of those mall walkers, but I played it off cool. When I got to a dead end, or in my case, a Macy's -- I did an about face, looked at my phone as if to say, "Ah, my "friends" must be waiting for me at the Nordstrom's. Let me head the opposite direction now..." I ventured briefly into a Pac Sun thinking there might be cheap board shorts, but they were only selling sweaters. I checked out the Lego store, a few clothing stores, and a Barnes & Noble. The central area of the mall has all sorts of rides. Log flumes, roller coasters, carousels etc. By far the scariest thing would have been this Dora the Explorer ferris wheel. And I don't intend that to be a joke. I have an irrational fear of ferris wheels. And you may be thinking, "But aren't you a pilot?" It's not the heights. It's that weird over-the-top feeling as you circle around. Why would anyone want that? And putting Dora on it is only going to trick some poor child into wanting to go on their first ferris wheel ride, only to be traumatized for life! Then they're going to have an irrational fear of ferris wheels and an irrational distrust of hispanic girls. I present you with an example here...Remember my post from Orlando about a particularly sassy niece?

Not so sassy anymore, is she?

Because about half of our class is still hanging out in the twin cities, I caught up with my old roommate from Salt Lake. We ventured to a place called Surly's Brewing Co. At first glance, I was a little concerned because it looks like an old industrial area that was probably condemned, but the inside expanded to a large beer hall atmosphere filled with lots of customers. By this time we were officially off the clock, so I enjoyed my first beer in more than a week. We talked about pilot things and work, work, work, BIDDING, work, work, work, DEICING, and so on. Two more days on reserve and I can finally pack new clothes. Who knows how much longer this 55 degree heat wave will last.

At my Domicile for the First Time

Out of all twelve domiciles, Minneapolis was my last choice for a base. On my initial bid, I listed every single domicile . . . and then Minneapolis. Yes, even Fresno was given higher priority. Inevitably, every person in my class received Minneapolis, regardless of what they bid for. The company email I received was almost a joke. "Congratulations! You've been awarded Minneapolis!" with not a hint of sarcasm. That was back in August. I had successfully avoided the city for nearly three months including last week's false alarm where I was sent to O'Hare in its place. But eventually, I could not avoid it any longer.

My first impressions of the airport were even worse than my lowest of expectations. The process of getting from the parking garage to the terminal was like an obstacle course. The following was the process (and I'm not even exaggerating) . . . I had to first enter the terminal by taking an escalator down, only to take another escalator up to take light rail to a different terminal, which required about a 10 minute wait. After finally arriving at the other terminal, I had to take an escalator up to take another one down to go through security, to take another escalator up to take a tram to the gates. After all of this effort, the person I was hoping to see to process my parking pass was unavailable and I had to retrace my steps back to the car. I arrived just after 11:00 and left at almost 1:00. That is what is known as inefficiency.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon driving around Minneapolis. I typed "giant spoon" into google maps and found exactly what I was looking for. The weather was a pleasant 58 degrees, but a bit breezy. I thought it was a little chilly, but evidently for Minneapolis, this is the kind of weather where you go for a run without a shirt. Many people were out cycling, walking, or jogging. I walked around a lake through some nice neighborhoods. The city itself seems nice and welcoming. The airport, on the other hand, is some kind of hell on earth. I've now spent two days on reserve and don't want to plan much for my third day. Last time I planned my day, I ended up doing four legs which included a flight to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Besides, now that I've seen the giant spoon, I'd really have to do some research for my next stop.

Sass Poses in O-Town

Working under the assumption that there is no way I'll be able to get off for any of the upcoming holidays this winter, I went south to Florida to visit my family. This would continue my ongoing efforts to befriend my niece, who would previously avoid me like she avoids broccoli.








It took some difficulty in convincing my niece that she was in fact, in Florida. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Orlando. We'll be taxiing for a few more moments. Please keep your seat belt fastened." "Orlando?! I want to go to Florida!!!!!" Being early November, I had (incorrectly) assumed that DisneyWorld would not be crowded. I was attacked on all flanks. Stroller strike from the left! Rascal bumping from the right! Rogue children running straight at my knees! The worst. But, this day was not about my struggles against the masses. This was about my niece in the happiest place on earth. This did not come without cost.

Since I last saw her, she has changed a bit. She will now speak to me directly without hiding. She has also become inordinately sassy. I do not know where it all came from, but her level of sassiness must have reached a boiling point somewhere at Epcot Center at the world of cokes exhibit. Anyone who has been to this section of the park is probably familiar with the "Beverly," an Italian carbonated aperitif known for its distinctly bitter flavor. My brother-in-law provided my niece with this beverage which quickly induced an expression of both disgust and betrayal. She was momentarily subdued.

The following day we headed to Universal Studios -- my first trip since the age of nine. It had changed a lot. Back to the Future was no more, and a Simpsons Land had taken its place. And making a resurgence was the sass pose. No beverly was on hand to keep this sassiness in check. If these kind of antics remain unchecked, who knows where these sass poses will end. I leave you with exhibit A:

The Colors of Fall in the Chicago Burbs

With another day on reserve, I woke up around 7am, having been on the clock for the previous three hours. See? I make money in my sleep. The airline would be happy to learn, however, that even in my sleep, I dreamt that I was assisting the ground crew by loading soda cans onto an airplane. Why the airplane was parked at the beach and had its inflatable slides deployed is neither here nor there.




After a subpar and overpriced breakfast at the hotel's Starbuck's, Greg and I convened with another high school friend living in a nearby suburb. As it is Monday, you could reasonably infer that none of us have real jobs. We spent our morning exploring the Morton Arboretum. Some of the leaves were still clinging to the trees. We put a lot of miles under our shoes as we walked around the expansive network of trails. There wasn't necessarily a huge amount of things to see other than trees (it is an arboretum after all), but it was nice just to get out. It was unseasonably warm, at one point getting above 70 degrees . . . in November . . . in Chicago.

 All of this walking combined with the lackluster Starbucker's croissant from this morning gave me a great hunger. Greg kept checking in with me to see if I was becoming irritable. I apparently have a reputation for getting hangry (hungry and angry simultaneously) if I am not fed promptly. The scenery kept me calm long enough to make it to Portillo's for an Italian beef sandwich and a hot dog.



Portillo's is a Chicago area staple like deep-dish pizza, or graft. I hadn't eaten there since high school, so it was strange to be back. In my youth, I would always go up after my meal for a chocolate cake. Sadly, I went cake-less today. There's always next time...

Tomorrow is another 12-hour reserve shift beginning at 4am. While I didn't receive a call today, it is impossible to predict what may happen tomorrow. While it seems unlikely that they would assign me anything substantial on my last day on reserve, I can never fully relax because I feel like I have to constantly be checking my phone when I'm out and about. It's also going to be a logistical challenge because I have to check out of the hotel and still be around until 4pm. I do not intend to be wheeling my luggage around town and wearing my uniform all day if I can help it...even though I would look adorable. Just look at that face!

The Not So Windy City

After flying in from Charleston early this morning, I had to sit ready reserve at the airport for four hours. During this time, I tried to be productive. I had breakfast, went for a walk around all of B concourse, then all of C concourse. Then, feeling frisky, I continued walking through concourses D, E, F, G, H, K, and L. You probably didn't even know half of those existed. If you're curious, L is where Spirit flies in, so if you're a sane traveler, you will never see this concourse. After getting some lunch, I went and got a flu shot. Yes, in the airport. Aren't you proud of me, Mom? At precisely noon, I left the terminal, checked into my hotel, and got wind that a friend of mine in Wisconsin, Greg aka Mr. Poopers, planned to drive down. With this knowledge in hand, I promptly readied myself by passing out, face down, on the hotel bed while Taylor Swift continued to play from my laptop.

Upon arrival, we went to a pub in downtown Chicago, where I ate a pretzel burger and half of Greg's quesadilla. Although I suggested he try and gain some weight prior to his wedding and lose it afterward, he did not heed my advice. We spent the rest of the evening walking around and taking pictures. We went to Millennium Park and saw the bean. Most of my pictures are unfortunately yellowish because I couldn't easily change my white balance settings on my simple point-and-shoot camera. It is the sacrifice I make when I have to carry my life around in a 22" suitcase.

We then took a stroll by the river. For November, it was a pleasant evening, not too cold, and the winds were calm. Shocking! Even this morning, I was afforded very nice views of the Chicago skyline as we lined up for our approach into O'Hare. It was very nice to also finally get out of a hotel or an airport and actually explore a place a little bit. Tomorrow I have a 12 hour reserve, so I'm not sure what to do during that time. It's hard to completely relax because I could be called at any time. We will see what happens . . .