per/Simmons

I don’t really have a fear of flying. It’s more like a fear of falling out of the sky. Yeah, yeah, I know the statistics and I understand the physics of lift and the Bernoulli principle. But I always have this sneaking suspicion that…The Universe? God? The Forces of Nature? …are going to wake up during one of my sojourns in the air and say: “What the hell? This thing’s too heavy to be up here and, look: no strings above, no stand underneath! Time to push the reset button on this violation of basic physics!”

Of course the rational part of my brain doesn’t really believe that. But the rational part of my brain has had a lifetime of experiences with mechanical conveyances (automobiles, for the most part) developing odd problems or just conking out completely—usually at the most inconvenient times or greatest distances from easy assistance. The big diff is said ground transportation offers the immediate option of coasting onto the shoulder of the road as the prelude to seeking further solutions. No shoulders at 30,000 feet.

But, seriously, I can fly. I have flown. I expect to fly again. I just don’t like it much.

Long drives to the airport, long-term parking, long lines, invasive security screenings (Is that a metal detector wand, Officer, or are you just happy to see me?), flight delays, 4-hour layovers or 20 minutes to dash through a Mall of the Americas sized airport to catch a connecting flight at the other end, arranging for pickup at my final destination—oops, not the best of terms given the movie franchise! There’s more: tiny seats with no legroom. I’m 6-4 and a bit more expansive of late. While my budget doesn’t typically allow buying two seats, it makes sense given my size and what the baggage handlers have done to my guitar in the past. And speaking of baggage, I don’t really find conventions restful when the airlines misplace my luggage.

Don’t get me started on the laptop issue…

So, after Mapquesting the route, a two-day drive (each way) seemed an equitable exchange. It would take my actual arrival time (and date) out of the questionable area that the airlines have been increasingly guilty of. And, even factoring in a budget motel stopover each way, it would even save Interfilk some money.

Besides, I hadn’t been to Canada in over 30 years and thought it might be nice to see a little more of it on this trip. I’ve only traveled outside the United States to visit three sovereign nations—Mexico, Canada, and Texas—so a little sight-seeing is always a preferable option. And, my GM Equinox had an 8-way adjustable drivers seat with moveable lumbar support, OnStar, GPS, and XM Satellite Radio (though I’m letting the free trial subscription to the latter lapse after this month) so I was assured of much more comfort in transit over a 2-day period than the Airline Obstacle Course, Multi-Legged Marathon, and Endurance Contest. At least the challenges on Survivor are a lot shorter, more fun, and offer either exotic rewards or immunity at Tribal Council.

The McMurrays drove up from Oklahoma late Tuesday evening to spend the night and we loaded up all of our stuff, which included another guitar and an autoharp, and departed, more or less, about 90 minutes behind schedule. My Bad: I had to wait on a prescription refill and return home (a few blocks at that point) for my jacket. We were going to Canada, after all.

Here’s the thing about a slightly more than 20 hour drive estimate. One: It’s Mapquest. If you’ve had much experience with Mapquest, particularly for distance driving: ‘nuff said. Two: expecting to drive a mere 10 hours each day does not take into account bathroom breaks, food breaks, and refueling breaks. Now you might suppose that all three could be combined into a single stop each time—you would, that is, if you were terribly young and inexperienced in long distance group travel. I’m not saying it was a big problem; it just wasn’t factored into the original math. That being said, we learned from our first day’s excursion and made good time on the second day. Even with a bit of wait at the border. I expected that. You can’t just have wide-open borders: Canada would be overrun with unemployed Americans surging North in search of jobs and socialized healthcare…

The final three hours of the drive were spent doing metric conversion tables in my head. Once in Canada I discovered that my speedometer was only calibrated for MPH. All of the other cars I had ever owned had a secondary reference table on the inner circle for KPH. It wasn’t until the return leg of our journey that I discovered the software switch that changed the whole speedometer to kilometer measurement. Hey, I got the car in January; I’d only gotten as far as page 427 in the owner’s manual.

At last we arrived at the Delta Hotel Thursday evening: and so Childe Roland to the Darke Tower came…

Stay Tuned for Part 3