Finally! I was able to take a long-anticipated trip to Brooklyn, to see my children (two) and grandchildren (also two) in a narrow window of time when everyone was together. My older granddaughter was home from college for a brief visit; I timed my trip to see her, give her a million hugs, and hear of her college experiences. My younger granddaughter, still at home for one more year, is a tall, slender sprite-like creature who always has lots of interesting things to say, and I am always very interested in hearing them. So, now, a blow by blow description of my trip…
There was a major rainstorm the evening before departure date, and the power went off (predictably) at around nine pm. Still not restored by the next morning. Great. A few major inconveniences included no coffee, no hairdryer, and a locked washing machine containing a large load of wet clothes. If not rescued within a few hours, said clothes would have morphed into a large, smelly ball of mildew. A dear neighbor was pressed into service to transfer the clothes from washer to dryer after the power returned. Off to the airport.
After checking my bag, I went in search of coffee. The Delta Sky Club provided that opportunity. Next stop, ladies’ room. I fluffed up my self-styled hairdo in a mirror and treated the ladies next to me, washing their hands, to an explanation for my bedraggled appearance; power outage, applying makeup in darkness, lack of hairstyle. No one seemed interested. I boarded my flight, using the last of my Delta credits for a first-class seat.
Now for some first-class food and drink. The first course was a Diet Coke and choice of almonds or a cookie. I chose the almonds. The next course was a cardboard box about half the size of a shoe box. There were yellow boxes and orange boxes. The poor flight attendant had repeated the contents of the boxes so many times I felt sorry for her, so I picked orange to save her some time.
In the box were many individually wrapped oddments of dubious identity. The only sure thing was beef jerky. Another bag held what was labeled “vegetable chips.” These were white triangular puffy things with a few flecks of orange and green, might have been recycled styrofoam. The last thing I opened, hope springing eternal, was a rubbery brick of compressed something that defied further identification. No worries. I washed it down with a glass of warm Prosecco, offered by the pleasant flight attendant who sensed my disappointment. The remainder of the flight was blessedly uneventful.
In the LaGuardia airport I identified the carousel where my suitcase was to be delivered. There it was, safe and sound. Now to retrieve it. I trotted along beside the bag, revolving on a conveyor belt, trying to find its handle or anything else to grasp. I thought I had it, and lunged frantically for something to hold on to. I came away clutching the routing strip and “yellow high priority” tag. The suitcase continued on its oval journey, undisturbed. As luck would have it, a fellow passenger was also waiting for his bag; he recognized my dilemma, and yanked the stupid suitcase off the carousel in the blink of an eye.
I made my way to the street and looked for the Uber-summoning area. As the Uber driver knew my destination before he accepted my fare, there was no pleading necessary for him to take me to distant Brooklyn. I was delivered to my hotel at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge, a wonderful location. And very trendy.
My first impression upon entering the hotel lobby was that there had been a power failure. The interior was really, really dark. I shuffled tentatively along to the reception desk, checked in, found the elevators, and made it to my room safely. Whew. The interior trappings might be described as steam punk. Admittedly, the term “steam punk” is a style of clothing rather than interior décor, but that’s what came to mind. The room was as dark as the lobby.
My eyes eventually adjusted to the dim light. The bathroom was most unusual. Faucet handles resembled valves, plumbing for the shower elements (hand-held wand and separate gentle rain ceiling shower head) were linked by black metal hoses, levers, and more valves. The shower compartment was separated from the WC by a single panel of frosted glass. Seriously? My architect son explained that such construction saved money.
Would that the dollars saved had been invested in light bulbs of higher wattage. But the products (shampoo, conditioner, lotion) were very nice. Curious as to the ingredients of these “100% natural” substances, I studied the labels of each one. The three labels were identical: cedarwood and oakwood with notes of eucalyptus, musk, and tree moss. Wonderful! Humor can be found in unexpected places.
To be continued in subsequent blog…Stay tuned.
I continue to pray for the mental and physical health of my friends and family, and for whomever else needs prayers.