Friday, June 05, 2009

Columbia (Part 5) Lost and Found

Lost In a Dark faraway land, Driving An unfamiliar vehicle, Daughter Nikki and I seek food and shelter at end of the first of our five-day Adventure  to visit  Nikki’s new hubby at Fort Jackson, SC.

Looking for East Exchange Blvd. in Columbia, SC, in what may as well been the middle of the night, we cruised back and forth on Atlas Road till we finally stopped at a Rite-Aide (must be safe, we have those back home!) to pick up a few particulars, and mainly ask directions.

The clerk tried to be helpful, but didn’t know where neither the Fort Jackson Sleep-Inn was, nor East Exchange Blvd. (Doesn’t that sound like a major street?)

The gal in line behind us stepped up to bat and began explaining where to go using local reference. I stopped her quickly telling her we were from out-of-town and knew nothing.

Nikki told the gal that we were there for Jerome’s graduation. The very sweet lady told us that not only was her husband retired military, but her dad, and several other family members too. “Well, in that case,” she volunteered, “it’s not far, and I’m going that way. Come on—follow me!”

So we did.

Well, she thought she knew where it was. There were lots of hotels in the immediate neighborhood, so we had to be close, but no Sleep-Inn presented itself. Finally, she pulled over and apologized, and suggested if I had a cell phone, I should call the hotel.

Duh! I did have a cell phone and their number. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? That’s why I have the danged thing… I bought it solely for just such occasions.

She alternatively suggested that we ask inside the Sunoco filling station we were huddled in front of.

I thanked her and blessed her profusely as she went on her way. She was an absolute sweetheart.

Since we were already there at the Sunoco, I decided to ask inside first.

The tall, handsome blacker-than-black skinned gal at the counter was on the phone talking so fast in such a heavy, black southern drawl, I couldn’t understand her at all. “Oh boy, this is futile,” I thought, but she politely put the phone down quickly then switched to a slower, more appealing southern accent that was perfect for us out-of-towners.

When I told her where we needed to go, she plopped her pretty self down with her forearms flat on the counter, and declared with a winning smile, “You know, everybody’s been looking for that place today!”

She was well rehearsed in giving stellar directions to pass “what” and turn “when.”  With her expertise, we found the motel in minutes. It was just a few blocks back, but the street sign was near invisible and East Exchange Blvd., more appropriately , East Exchange Alley, was more of a back road, no street lights, stop signs, signals—nothing. And, it turned out, the motel was set far enough back on the little road, that one really couldn’t see it till directly upon it. But, because of one little gal’s expert directions, we found it in short order. Thank you, thank you, honey-child!

Aaand… happily, because of all the back-and-forthing of being lost, we found the local Piggly Wiggly! Woo-hoo! I was so excited with that alone. (I’m just a Piggly Wiggly type of girl. Mid-west born and bred!) We also noticed a couple of chain restaurants that seemed to be everywhere. Shoney’s, and The Waffle House, both of which were in walking distance of the hotel.

After checking in and getting settled, we drove to Shoney’s for dinner (it was way too cold for us So. California beach girls to walk). It was great! I had the all-you-can-eat salad bar for $5.99 (which, for an extra buck or two, could have included the all-you-can-eat breakfast bar, which I declined). Nikster had a “pepper-jack chicken club” sandwich that she described as AWESOME! The atmosphere was nice, quiet and the lighting low. (I don’t like bright restaurants... or bright lights, period, except of course sunlight, then I can’t seem to get enough!)

The food was great, and inexpensive, the servers were terrific, warm and friendly. We liked it and agreed to come back and bring Jerome on Friday (if it was okay with him).

The trip to this point was an enlightening experience for me. Spiritually enlightening. I loved every being I came in contact with… hurdled every obstacle with ease. (Though I think of obstacles as frustrations—therefore, there were none.)

Nikki, at times, was less than positive, but she’s learning—it’s all about confidence and having fun.

I’m learning this too.

Venturing out “by myself,” so to speak, is wonderful! I’m so grateful for the opportunity to do so. I’ve wanted to venture for so long now… from forever. I can do it!

I did it!

I felt so “present” and alive, happy to talk with so many unique beings, seeing them smile and making them laugh. I really liked it.

In a way, I felt I had my brave–face on for my kids when they travel with me. I like them with me, it’s easier to put it on. But I realized that, yes! I am on my own. I am my own unique, individual! I’m different. I’m special.

From the moment I decided to arise that clear Wednesday morning, I felt no angst. I was in total control. I was embarking on an adventure. I expected to have a marvelous time, and… I did. I lived the dream… and I’m still living it!

Yes! I want to continue to go places! I want to see and explore! I want to talk to people, lots of people. I want to know what it’s like here, there and somewhere else. I wanted to hug the cashier we met at Shoney’s that night who was just as cute and friendly as could be! Dang, I just wanted to hug everyone throughout the day, from Mr. Toebe to the desk clerk at the Fort Jackson Sleep-Inn.

It was a most wendippitous day!

To be continued…

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Columbia Adventure (Part 4)

The continuing saga of the first of our five-day journey to the great state of South Carolina to witness Daughter, Nikki’s new hubby graduate from basic training at Fort Jackson, SC.

Columbia, South Carolina

It was still early in the evening, but totally dark when we landed at Columbia Metropolitan Airport (CAE).[1] I was a bit nervous about being a strange lady who can’t see well at night, driving in a strange land, in a strange little-tiny car, to strange destinations, but I shook those negatives thoughts. I had no choice… just do it. All will be fine.

This time we disembarked on the causeway but the walk to the terminal was much shorter. And it was COLD! Maybe even colder than O’Hare, but there was no snow. Brrr.

The airport was lovely! Warm, bright and inviting with a taste of southern hospitality. As soon as we got to the baggage claim of this relatively empty airport, I called the car rental place and the very nice young gentleman, with his charming southern accent, instructed as soon as we retrieved our luggage to “wait just outside those big double doors right there to the left." He knew exactly what I was staring at. He said the shuttle would be there shortly to pick us up.

We had our luggage in no time.

Now, brilliant me insisted just as we were leaving the house, that Nikki find some brightly colored bandanas to tie on the handles of the luggage so we could spot them quickly as they came round the carrousel. As our luggage appeared complete with our smartly tied bandanas, I quickly learned that there was no need for brightly colored bandanas. We had the shabbiest, ugliest, most out-dated luggage one could possibly have. It stuck out, no problem.

We laughed, collected our lowly luggage and stepped a few feet outside when, voilà, the shuttle pulled up directly in front of us. The young man whisked out, grabbed our bags, got us safely seated, and away we went to get a car. Wow, talk about southern hospitality!

The nice fella at the Enterprise outlet gave us an upgrade from a small economy-car, to a Kia Sorento (or something like that), a mid-sized SUV. Very cool—I felt a little safer already! And it was even a pretty color, a periwinkle blue. Life is good!

We got in the vehicle. I scoped out where all the operatives were, started up the engine, got the lights on after finding out how the windshield wipers work… and here we go.

The first thing I learned was this car did not have a manual transmission like my ‘70 Volkswagen van back home. So, I tucked my left leg up to keep me from stomping on the brake trying to depress the clutch.

Next, I learned we have power brakes. Very sensitive power brakes. And that it excelled quickly!

As I nervously jerked out of the parking lot and onto the nearly empty (thank you, God) highway. Nikki whooped then shouted, “This sure ain’t Huckleberry!” (our V-dub van). With that, we both started laughing and the driving became a piece of cake.

Equipped with all the directions I had diligently studied at home, and what the Enterprise fella told us, we easily found our way to the Interstate. We were to get off on exit 9.

Exit 9 was easy enough to find, but life became complicated. I had to choose between exit 9A or exit 9B.

The directions were to turn right off exit 9, but I got confused with the A & B part, so I turned left off 9A with reasoning only a blonde would understand. But which way from there?

It was dark. Did I turn the right way? I could not see any street signs. I knew that the hotel was very near-by, but no matter how many times we drove up and down the main drag, the intersection to East Exchange Blvd. where the Fort Jackson Sleep-Inn was located, didn’t seem to exist.

We were, ummm… lost.

To be continued…


[1] Now, everywhere I see Columbia Metropolitan Airport there’s always (CAE) behind it. I haven’t a clue what it means… I’m sure curious though. Let me know if you have the answer, thanks.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Never Judge a Book By Its Movie

I saw the film version of Kate DiCamillo’s, The Tale of Despereaux last night.

Quite frankly, it stinks.

Parents, please, please, please READ this wonderful tale to your children before they watch the movie. The book is soooo much richer. The stories of the three wayward heroes entwine in such an intriguing way, it leaves the reader/listener breathless and wanting more.

I read Despereaux in 2003, when it was first published. I absolutely loved it! I was not surprised when it won the Newberry Medal later that same year. It is extremely clever and cute. A good read-aloud for all ages. A good read-alone too, for those of you with no one to read to.

So, I reiterate, never judge a book by its movie.

I urge you all to let your mind’s eye splurge in the fantasy and enjoy what the author truly intended.

Enough said.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Columbia Adventure (Part 3-cont.)

Nikki and I are finally flying into Columbia, SC,on the first day of our journey to see her hubby graduate from boot camp at Fort Jackson. The sun was setting gloriously on the other side of the plane, when there it was…

Just beneath us…

As big as life…

A huge bright red neon sign shown the missing element of life…

The letters spelled out American itself…

I wiggled and jiggled in my seat, and woke up Nikki to show her. Yes, there is a God!

“Look, Nikki!” I poked her awake and pointed to the icon…

“LOOK! It’s a PIGGLY WIGGLY! A real PIGGLY WIGGLY, did you see it?” but, alas, she missed it.

It didn’t matter, I was in Piggly Wiggly heaven… Yes! The store with the really silly name still exists! Thank you! Thank you, God, and Clarence Saunders, who founded the first “self-service” Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Memphis, Tenn. in 1916.

Now, I am originally from the Midwest – Omaha, to be exact. I remember they had silly names like Piggly Wiggly for the supermarkets and drug stores there; I just can’t, for the life of me, remember the names. I am aware of Winn Dixie, but I think I’m safe to say they weren’t in Omaha. Porky Dorky? Pinky-Winky?… can’t remember.

(If anyone knows, please, please remind me!)

To be continued…

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Columbia Adventure (Part 3)

Daughter, Nikki, and I continue the first of our five-day journey to the great state of South Carolina to witness her new hubby’s graduation from basic training.

When we stepped into the main concourse at O’Hare, I couldn’t believe it!

The place was fantastic! It was stunningly bright and gorgeous with its high-beamed superstructure enclosed in glass! Oh course, this was a bright and beautiful sunny day, I did stop to wonder, a few times what it might be like in there on a dark stormy day, or when it snowed?

It was too cool!

The mall-like atmosphere was colorful and exciting at first. Yet, we soon we realized on our, near mile trek to the next boarding gate, there were only about a dozen different vendors and restaurants that kept repeating. Starbucks absolutely came in first showing about every third storefront—but hey, this is America!

After we found our gate in a lesser, not as fancy terminal, probably the older part of the venue, we scoped the joint for lunch. Nik decided on a Chicago Style Pizza (like we can get at home, but hey, we were really in Chicago!)

I had a hot dog of the same fame (though I usually don’t eat hot dogs, but this was vacation time). It was okay. I was very disappointed there was no sauerkraut, but I did have the nice little Asian lady add tomatoes, pickles and onions—that was different. The same nice little Asian lady granted Nik her pepperoni pizza pie. It smelled excellent; Nik concurred, it tasted such too.

While we waited for the next flight, I told Nikki I had dibs on the window seat again, but I really was thinking there would be no window seats as we had seats 1A and 1C—right up front and personal. She gave me just enough resistance to make me feel selfish, so I allowed as she could have the lookie-out side.

Well, as it turns out, Columbia, So. Carolina, albeit the capitol of the state, is not the most popular place on the planet. The plane we boarded was quite a bit smaller than the 757 we were privy to earlier. So small, in fact, that we had to board the old-fashioned way… way out on the runway!

Oh, we walked through the boarding apron in the usual way only to find a stairway that emptied us outside on the tarmac!

Wow, what a shock it was when we stepped out into the frigid sunshine! Nik and I both giggled and laughed with glee at this unexpected event. Our breath came out like white, billowing smoke… brrrrrrrrr.

We were dressed warmly enough to endure the several-hundred yard walk to the gangway. One gal in front of us had on nothing but short sleeves, capri’s, and flip-flops. She obviously wasn’t expecting the hike.

I lead the way into the plane, so happy and chipper, and immediately hopped into the window seat. Nikki sat and said nothing, although she looked at me a bit apprehensively when the stewardess told us we MUST stow our gear above as there was nowhere to stash it under the seat since we were in the front row of the cabin. It took me a few minutes to remember I had offered the window seat to Nikki. I remembered simply because she commented that she had the perfect view of the cockpit.

“Ooooh—cool!” I replied, immediately curious to see too. Then she reminded me of our prior agreement. Oops. I offered to switch seats, but she said she’d take the windows on the way home. Okay.

There was snow everywhere on the ground, a solid six-inch layer everywhere except trafficked places. Nikki marveled, ooed, and awed. She’d never seen it like that before. (I think only once did her dad and I take her, Max, and Roz to the mountains at Big Bear to experience snow.)

The tall, thin, nicely dressed older gal seated across the aisle from Nik mentioned she was from Wisconsin and there they had had over 90-inches of snow! The snow banks were way over her head, and she’s 5’8”.

The sun was setting during the 90-minute flight to Columbia. I could see it somewhat through ports on the other side of the cabin. Very lovely. So much water… rivers, lakes… water everywhere. As the sun went down, the city lights went on and the plane began its descent.

I was absolutely fascinated; it was beautiful! Why have I allowed myself to be so sheltered for so long?!

And then, as we neared touch-down, the epitome!

Wow, I couldn’t believe it!

There, big as life! Just beneath us… LOOK!

To be continued..

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Columbia Adventure (Part 2)

Daughter, Nikki, and I journey to the great state of South Carolina to witness her new hubby’s graduation from basic training.

We made it safely to LAX and found our seats on the plane on our first day out.

I have the window seat! YAY!

Nikki declined wanting to sit by it claiming that she was going to sleep anyway.

I opened the shade to find I had a perfect view. It was 100%...

…wing. :-(

Yes, I had a perfect view of the whole top of the wing, but I found if I really twisted around, I was able to see out the window behind me. And there was a bit of a view on the horizon to the front.

Nevertheless, the weather was perfect. It was a beautiful, clear warm day. As was banked south toward home after our west facing take-off, I could see the South Bay and Palos Verdes coastlines. It was exciting to jet over the coast. I could pick out Royal Palms and Point Fermin. I waved to Roxzi at home, and a minute or so later, to Jim, but we banked inland just before we passed his home on Balboa Island.

The mountains were brightly sunlit with tons of snow. It was absolutely gorgeous!

The pilot announced, what seemed just a few minutes later, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon to our left (my side—yay!). I was twisted, I was turned, but I saw the red terrain and the snake-like a scratch in the ground that was the Grand Canyon. It looked so insignificant from so high up.

Further along, where those the snow-capped Grand Tetons? I’m guessing, yes.

I could see what appeared to be plains below, and huge snowy mountains ahead. The Rockies? Clouds? Definitely mountains… big, bright, beautiful mountains.

I couldn’t help but wonder as the mountains continued to grow to monstrous proportions before my eyes, could Huck make it to, around, over and beyond such terrain and back again? I think he can… I think he can… I think we can… whoa.

I didn’t see one cloud. But everything was white with still more peaks ahead. Geeze, that’d be a haul for Huck… I didn’t realize how big that range was!

Only once did I see a disturbing puddle of brown. A bubble of brown, so to speak, off to the left. Denver?

How daunting those mountains must have been to travelers not more than a hundred or so years ago and increasingly so to those before.

Rule Number One. While writing on commercial airline flights in economy class, especially if you are sitting by the window—never, never, never drop your pen.

Rule Two, make sure to have an extra one handy (for just such mishaps).

I managed to break both. There was no way I could reach my fallen instrument. I could see it, I move it with my foot, but no matter how hard I strained, there was not enough room for the snatch.

I couldn’t even reach my carry-on, which Nikki insisted I stash under the seat in front of me. I was merrily going to put my stuff in the overhead when she barked at me under her breath, “I don’t trust anyone on planes.”

“But it’s just my jacket.” (My good-ol’ Point Fermin windbreaker.) “Who would want it?”

“Put it under the seat,” my daughter demanded. “Put your bag under there too! I don’t trust anyone,” she hissed again as she looked around the cabin suspiciously.

I shook my head and smiled, “You’ve been living with your dad too long.” Then stuffed it all under.

Now the fellow sitting in the aisle seat was well equipped with a pen. He was busy working on business papers with what appeared to be something a bit more expensive than a Bic. He had smiled and been friendly enough when he boarded, but when I inquired if he may have an extra pen or pencil that I might borrow, he looked at me as if I were absolutely looney-tunes, and said flatly, “No.” He apparently was not amused at my excitement of being on an adventure.

Well, in that case…

… We all had to get out of our seats and clamor into the aisle. Only then was I finally able to reach my precious. I beamed with pleasure while I happily held it up for the fella to see. He did not share my enthusiasm. Good pens are loved.

Since I was already up, I decided to use the facilities. There was only one functioning head in the rear, so I got in line. Soon a very nice gentleman from Minnesota. queued in behind me. Right away, we struck up a lively conversation about where we might be. I quickly mentioned the possible Denver smog puddle, whereas eyes lit up and his bushy white eyebrows raised in inquisitive possibility.

Turns out, this very sweet and handsome white-haired gent had been visiting his son in Redondo Beach for three weeks. One of the three, he boasted, who put him up at the Marriott Resort on Coronado Island. He was so proud that the retreat was totally comped by is wonderfully successful son.

My fellow flyer looked a bit like an older Mr. Toebe. Kinda talked like him too (Mr. Toebe is from Michigan). He was regretting having to return to the harsh conditions back home, but he was truly happy and grateful for such a fabulous break.

I finally returned to my seat and settled in for the rest of the flight. I craned and wrote (and was very careful with my pen). Meanwhile, Nikki napped.

As we approached O’Hare for a transfer and a 90-minute wait, the pilot announced the weather conditions there were clear and sunny and a balmy 25 degrees. I noticed my feet suddenly felt cold.

Though my neck was stiff, my spirits were high and I couldn’t help but want to capture every moment of the patchwork country below us. From greens to reds, to browns, greys, and whites, and now many patches of blue… so many lakes and rivers! I didn’t want to miss a thing.

And Nikki napped.

Now, if I had been in the middle seat, I would have been crawling all over the body next to me to see… it’s just not something I get to do often enough.

I still find it hard to understand why daughter was not as intensely as curious about the journey itself as I was. After all, I’ve flown many times to many places (not as many as I’d like… yet), and she’d only been to San Francisco.

I was excited. I was free. I felt like I was in my element. It was great. I was loving every moment!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Columbia Adventure (Part Start)

Here we goooo…

A recount of an adventure with daughter Nikki. February 29, 2008

It was a grand adventure from the moment I decided to get up and have a good time.

John Toebe, LAX airport angel, was due to pick us up at 6:15 a.m. sharp. Nik gave me the wake-up call I requested at 5:00, but I was already awake. I’d been lying there thinking about the distance I felt from my sweetheart that seemed to be getting further and farther away.

What does, “Uh-huh, you too,” mean? A guided missile? A rock band?

“Uh-huh, you too” was the reply I’d gotten from him all too often lately when I told him I loved him. Sigh.

All the same, as soon as I got up at 5:20 that morning, the agenda was entirely different. Nikki bounced in with tail wagging, ready, excited and eager to get going. We were about to deploy to Columbia, South Carolina, to see her new husband, Jerome, who would soon be graduating from basic training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina.

I went into action mode, I took a quick shower all the while humming some silly song I thankfully can’t remember at this point. I was packed and ready the night before, so all the last minute stuff went like… well, clockwork.

Mr. Toebe arrived at 6:00 to egg us on… and yes indeed, we were out the door precisely at 6:15 as scheduled.

Everyone should have a Mr. Toebe as a friend. His goal is to please; he’d have been genuinely hurt had I not asked him for a ride.

Oops, silly me, we got to about 22nd Street when I realized we had forgotten the itinerary. So, back we go… Mr. Toebe is so sweet, kind and patient! Thankfully we were just a few blocks from home, which is where I usually remember I forgot something essential, like the tickets, a map, an important phone number, directions, a kid.

So, good ol’ Mr. Toebe took the 110 fwy to the 105, not my route of choice, but he’s driving and the gas was on him, which turned out to a good thing although the traffic was backed up on the 105. We listened to the radio traffic report and learned there was an injury accident ahead. We also learned that conditions were far worse on the 405 so it was the “road best taken.”

The accident had obviously been a bad one. The ambulances were gone by the time we passed, but what remained was a molten heap of ashen grey that was almost unrecognizable as a car. I said a prayer for the former occupants; it was pretty scary.

Our flight time was 8:55 and though the standard is to be at the airport two hours early, arriving at 7:30 made no matter. We checked our bags in from the curbside for five bucks, whisked through check-in and security, and were safely in the terminal at our boarding area by 7:45.

I was warned to be patient; there would be long lines and the personnel unfriendly—untrue! Everyone was just as nice as can be!

Nikki, on the other hand, was as fretful and as nervous as her father.

“That went extremely well!” I gushed at Nikki’s furled face.

“I’ve always had bad experiences in airports.” she confessed.

“There’s always a first.” I beamed. “Now you know it can be done and it’ll be good from here on out!”

Still, she turned white when I casually set my carry-on down on the floor next to her to watch while she stood eating a parfait she bought at a crowded McDonald’s on the terminal concourse. (I got a much wanted coffee, though it was full strength! How can a restaurant serving simulated breakfast food not have simulated hot water? Do they not have tea? Do they not know that some people, well at least one, like their coffee extremely weak?)

“You can’t just leave a bag unattended; they’ll think it’s a BOMB!” she bantered, “What if someone comes up and asks?”

With a full raised eyebrow, perplexed at this gifted daughter’s paranoia, “You say,” I told her, “‘Oh, it’s my mom’s bag. She’s just right there in the book store.’

“It’s easy.”

In the bookshop, I bought a notepad to write of our escapades, and a book called, The Go-Giver, by Bob Burg, and John David Mann recommended to me the weekend before by Mary, the fabulous photographer for the wonderfully enlightening, Bridging Heart and Marketing Conference I attended hosted by my wonderful celebrity clients, relationship experts Drs. Judith Sherven & Jim Snieckowski (popularly known as Judith & Jim), now soft-sell marketing aficionados. (And isn’t marketing all about establishing a relationship with your customer? Yes.)

Mary, at the conference check-in was so thrilled with the book. She confessed she picked up in the airport and read it twice on the plane getting here and that she just loved it! She even had the copy in her hand so she could show everyone!

So there it was, this little, bright red book blaring at me on the book store shelf. I’d have to pay the full cover price knowing, if I waited, I could get it much cheaper at Amazon, but it was there, and I was there, and I’m going on a long airplane ride just like Mary, and… sold!

I came out happy with my prize to find a very nervous Nikki. She was getting anxious cause it was close to boarding time. We made it back to the gate just time… to wait in line.

We boarded, no problem. I got the window seat—YAY!

To be continued…