Ah, the Stress of Holiday Travel

We find our heroes in Michigan's upper peninsula. After a significant delay due to low visibility, we finally acquired the aircraft, flew it to Detroit, turned around, and did an approach to minimums in Escanaba, Michigan. The following morning, we all woke up at 5am in an attempt to take the first flight to Detroit and go home, or in my case -- New Jersey. Then the problems began. The weather automation system at the airport was broken, and since the airport is not towered, there was no one there to either fix it or create their own weather report. Thus I was stranded in Escanaba indefinitely. I seriously contemplated getting a rental car and driving to Green Bay or Appleton just to get out. The problem with this plan was the lack of a car rental company that was open. Eventually by sheer luck, or "prayers," as an elderly passenger claimed, the weather automation was back on line and the 11 of us that remained at the airport boarded a nearly empty plane and were off to Detroit.

Once in Detroit, I had to exit through security, take a bus to another terminal, reenter security, and run to my gate (which of course was at the farthest end of the terminal). It was Christmas eve and the airports were crowded and oversold on flights. Knowing I had basically no chance of getting a seat in the back, I asked for the jumpseat up front. It was a short flight over to Newark, where it was . . . 72 degrees on December 24th.

At any opportunity, I tried to get outside. Each day in New Jersey got a little bit colder. By the end, the temperature had dropped to the 50s (still unusual mind you). Nicole and I visited numerous parks, such as the one you see here in Verona. Nicole practiced her beam routine and was thankful the French judge was not there to deduct 4/10 of a point for that small bounce at the dismount. After that we went to a mansion in Montclair called the VanVleck House. It would normally have lush gardens and look very elegant. It is evidently popular as a wedding venue, but when we arrived, it looked haunted and spooky. I guess this is to be expected when it is December and everything is dead.









The next day, I was on six different flights. One to go from Newark to Minneapolis, and then five more flights that made up my work schedule for the day. This was the most I've ever done in one day. It was not too stressful, though, because I got to land at Appleton International, an airport that I have not landed at since 2001 when I was flying a Cessna 152. There was something poetic about returning to the place where I had my first solo. A lot has changed since then. A new terminal building was built, two of the airlines that used to fly there (Midwest and Northwest) no longer exist, and despite all my flight training being grounded after 9/11, going to school in D.C. for a degree unrelated to flight, attending graduate school in California for a degree unrelated to flight, and almost 15 years after that first solo, I had returned to the airport that started it all. It took a while, but it was worth it.