Farewell to Farms

Knowing from the very beginning that my Minneapolis base would only be temporary, I attempted to make the best of it when I bid for certain flight routes. I requested overnights in Appleton, Wisconsin (my old hometown) and it seemed fitting that one would fall on my very last trip out of MSP. An uncle, aunt, and two cousins showed up to take me out to dinner. I was allowed to choose where we ate. I remembered enjoying a place down by the river called Pullman's, an old trolley depot from when Appleton used to have street cars. I had previously only been there during the summer months, when the sun beat down and people sat outside under umbrellas drinking all sorts of ales.

In winter, the atmosphere was a bit different. I couldn't at all remember what I ordered at Pullman's, which might indicate that I didn't really come for the food. Nevertheless, the average cheeseburger I ordered was served up with family curiously inquiring about my new career.
"Do you turn your phone off when you're flying?"
"Of course...otherwise the battery will drain."
"Can you give us flight benefits?"
"No."
"When are you getting married?"
" . . ."
"Can we get flight benefits?"

And so it went. I had a busy schedule this evening and went back downtown to meet up with some high school friends. There are very few people I still communicate with from h.s., so my friends capped out at two.

We met up at a place at the end of College Ave called Jim's Place. It has a sort of old world vibe to it with pictures on the wall of bar patrons from decades past going back to the days when the world was black and white and men wore hats. But tonight it was taken over by college kids playing darts, 15 cougars out on the prowl, and three kids who shared a common high school over ten years ago. One of them had dark hair. The other two were pale gingers and not to be trusted. We caught up on the exciting events of our lives. "I just got married last month," said one. "I just put my child to bed," said the other. "I'm craving donuts," said I. One mentioned that there was a time back in High School when I went to the grand opening of a Krispy Kreme in Appleton at midnight. I honestly don't remember this happening, but don't doubt for a minute that it would be something I would do.

Speaking of food . . . the following morning after landing in MSP, a wholesome looking woman opened a tupperware and offered us cupcakes. All three of us tried one. For a brief fleeting moment, I questioned this decision. "Should all three of us being eating the same thing? What if it's laced with cocaine? Oooh! Is that nutella?" Nom nom nom. It was delicious. It is always interesting what one sees on a plane. The flight attendant said a woman walked onto the plane clutching a wedding dress and crying hysterically. Was I flying from Las Vegas or Appleton? Back in the cockpit, it was all business. It was one of the dreaded five-leg days that seem to drag forever. We made two more trips out to North Dakota to remind me why I really won't miss flying in this part of the country. Although Appleton and Minneapolis had both crested over 40 degrees, Grand Forks, North Dakota was adamant that it should never be more than 14. Farewell MSP. It's time for warmer pastures.

A-Town Down

After a quick turn in Lansing, Michigan where I was assaulted by 25 mph winds with blowing snow, we embarked on a flight from Minneapolis to Appleton. Despite it being technically colder the day before, the winds had been calm. Now each second outside was unbearable with the wind chilling me to the bone. We arrived in Appleton around 10:00pm and I immediately noticed the vending machine of cheese inside the airport terminal. We drove down College Ave and I took in the changes since I moved away over 12 years ago. At one corner I spotted a Family Video, where I used to rent videos in my youth.  How is it still in business? The van driver said there are still about ten of them in the area. It must be a front for something . . .





At one point I figured I would venture out downtown at night upon arrival, but the cold temperature was just too much for my frail body, so I cranked up the heat, took a hot shower, and called it a night. The following morning, I found myself using Yelp to find a place to get breakfast. Despite living here for 18 years of my life, I typically had oatmeal, waffles, or toaster strudels every morning. I never found myself searching for a breakfast place . . . until now. I settled on a coffee shop called the Copper Rock Café. It also coincidentally required the least amount of walking outside.

It was fairly busy inside and I enjoyed my scone, muffin, and orange juice. I couldn't help but contrast this to Wichita and some other places I have overnighted. Despite the oppressive cold, there were numerous people walking outside and businesses were actually open! Exciting! As I sat there looking out at familiar buildings, I had a very surreal feeling. I was a stranger in my hometown. Despite the familiarity, it was almost no different than an overnight in South Bend or Cedar Rapids. It just didn't feel like home anymore. Maybe I had simply been away too long.

As I made a circle back to the hotel, I stopped to quickly snap this picture of a seemingly ordinary looking office building. This is where I went to a clinic and received allergy shots for three years while in high school. And because I was receiving these allergy shots, the Department of Defense medical board declined my application to serve in the U.S. Air Force. As a result, you have an interesting chain of events that have me going to college in Washington, DC where everyone starts calling me "Appleton." Somewhere along the way, I got self-conscious that people might think Appleton was the name of someone who wore sea-foam green polo shirts, played La Crosse with a popped collar and vacationed in Nantucket. It was years before some people actually realized that wasn't my real name.

After an international affairs degree in D.C., a masters degree in Los Angeles, here I am today . . . back in Appleton, Wisconsin all because of a simple decision to rid myself of allergies. This story could have been much different. I could be in Afghanistan right now, or maybe a base in Germany or (heaven forbid) . . . Anchorage, Alaska. But no. I am in Appleton, Wisconsin, where I grew up, took my first flight lessons, acted in plays, ran Cross-Country, and went to prom. I was a relatively normal kid. And now I'm writing a blog about how seeing all of this is really really weird.

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.