Strangely, it’s kinda hard to say exactly when
this trip started! It really seems like it began a week ago, when
we took
my eldest daughter to debate camp in Lawton,
OK. She is entering high school (9th grade) this fall and got special
permission to take debate as a freshman.
This camp was her first personal experience as a debater.
She was nervous, as both a first-timer and with
only one person (her future teacher) she even remotely knew.
We brought her down, got her situated, and left
as she entered her opening session.
After a few nightly phone calls expressing confusion,
bewilderment, impending illness, and tears, I was sure we were
headed back mid-week. But, either because—or
in spite—of her mother’s and my tender ministrations, encouragement,
and discussions, she stuck it out, completed
several debates—including a large one she was most concerned about
—and came home having won one, tied one, and
lost two.
We figured that was pretty good for a first experience.
So her mom picked her up Friday after lunch, while
I struggled mightily trying to wrap up a major project at work.
I broke away and met my reunited family for dinner—to
celebrate our daughter’s semi-triumphant return and because
I’d be unable to make our normal Saturday night
out.
After dinner, I’d hoped to head home with ‘em,
but there was just too much left to do. Finally, I left the office
at 2 a.m.,
with a stack of sketches, calculations, notes,
and color-coded drawings for our drafter and engineer trainee to put the
final touches on. It would have to do.
Oh, did I mention that I had yet to pack anything?
After telling the girls goodnight (by phone) at
the usual bedtime, I had my wife put some basics out for me:
socks, underwear, and toiletry bag. When
I got home at 2:30, I picked out shorts, t-shirts (mostly with political
sentiments—go figure!), my navy blue suit with
2 sets of dress shirts and ties (including my Bill Clinton tie), various
accessories and my all-important cargo.
I was taking a BartCop.com care package to distribute at the convention
as best I can.
For the first time in over 20 years, I left my
trusty Pentax 35mm camera at home, opting instead for our camcorder and
a
digital camera borrowed from my folks.
This change was in hopes of delivering some reports while the convention
was still underway.
I thought I was pretty well gathered: a
garment bag with dress clothes; a gym bag with care package and other deliveries
(to double as my “booty hauler” on the return
trip); my regular suitcase with the bulk of my duds; a belly bag, for quickly
passing through metal detectors; my straw hat
(displaying a “no W” button), for sunny day trips and klieg lights on the
convention floor; my camcorder bag, into which
we’d also worked the digital still camera; and, finally, my trusty briefcase,
without which I feel undressed.
It sounds like a lot, but I was able to carry
it all (in one trip) from the car into the terminal. (And, yeah,
until I heard the
“you know you’re from Oklahoma when…” joke, I
HADN’T thought twice about flying out of Will Rogers World Airport
in OKC—yep, named for a man killed in a plane
crash!)
But I’m getting ahead of myself… I’d back-calculated
from my 6:30 a.m. flight: one hour for check-in, that’s 5:30;
a half-hour to drive there, that’s 5:00; a half-hour
to shower and load the car, that’s 4:30. So I set the alarm for 4
a.m.,
a mere 45 minutes away.
After all that had transpired, I honestly figured
I’d lapse into a coma. But, no, rest was actually hard to come by
—until the alarm went OFF, of course. I
used the snooze button a few times and got up at 4:21.
So far, so good…
Brushed my teeth, showered, put on the clean
jeans and “Scouting for All” t-shirt I’d laid out. (I’d renounced
my
Eagle Rank back in 2000 to protest the Boy Scouts
of America’s treatment of gays, non-theists, and their supporters,
including Unitarian Universalists (UUs) like
me.)
4:45—ok!
Suddenly, a time warp hit. As I loaded up
the car and gently told my sleeping girls goodbye, I couldn’t find my glasses!
AAAaaah—ok they’re on the nightstand, right where
I left ‘em.
All right—we’re backing out o’ the driveway and
what’s my wife asking if I have my tickets for? (GULP!)
Ummmm, all I’ve got is my e-mail confirmation.
Isn’t that all there IS anymore? (Three hours later: yes.)
Oh, but my cab fare vouchers are in the blue
folder—gotta go back in and get them…and my file with the rest of the
convention info…and—hey—there’s that invitation
for the re-enactment of the American Revolutionary Battle of Lexington—COOL!
OK, gotta GO—ooooooh—5:30!
Backroads; no traffic—AAAAAH—a wrecker and police
have the road blocked! Turn around, back to the section
line road and out State Highway 37 to I-44. OK,
off on SW 59th St.; now, off at the airport exit I often miss. Up
to the
terminal, light drizzle. Traffic; “Chinese
Fire Drill”—bail out, grab my stuff—quick hug and goodbye kiss for my wife
as she heads out of the no parking zone.
Lines. Hey, there’s fellow UU and Oklahoma
State Senator Bernest Cain! Lines. Ticketless check-in, that’ll
work…
”ooooh, you’d better hurry!” Only allowed
two bags!? $80 for the third?! Damn! When I get back,
I’m gonna get one
of those refrigerator boxes with a handle like
everyone else has…shit, all THREE of mine wouldn’t fill THAT guy’s…
oh well, too late now…In line for the bag swabbing…c’mon,
C’MON! OK, three bags checked.
Next line, carry-ons and metal detector, let’s go!
Slowly creeping, slowly, slowly. Boarding
pass and drivers’ license: OUT! Change and keys IN the belly bag.
Will I be thrown out for the one-inch stick pin
in the “no W” button?!
C’mon, C’MON—ok, camcorder in a separate tray;
belly bag OFF! Camcorder/digital camera in a tray;
hat with murder weapon/button in another!
All passed! No, wait…wires? It’s a digital camera and re-charger
in the bag, OK?
OK—“Gate 6, hon’.” Thanks—BOOM! I’m
a pre-Nicole O.J. though the airport. Puff, puff—damn, haven’t been
exercising the last two weeks, oh well, I’ll
make it up walking in Boston!
GATE 6! Aw oh, not many people there…eeeee…10
minutes past my flight time. Anyone working here?
Next gate over…yep, your flight’s gone, we’ll
see what we can do…
<Looooong exhalation…>
…So they put me on a flight to DFW; a couple hour
layover (mmm, Mickey D breakfast burritos) and now,
I’m halfway to Beantown (passed Ohio River and
Evanston, IN a bit ago).
As I got off the plane, I kept feeling something bumping my heels. I looked around and saw…it was my ass dragging!
Butt, I MADE IT! S’posed to be a great party tonight…
It’s a beautiful Sunday morning on the Charles
River in Boston (Cambridge, actually).
While I’ve got a few minutes before our 11 a.m.
meeting followed by a brunch, I thought I’d try to catch up on stories.
My roommate (splitting a $218 room) is a political
science professor from Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, OK.
I’d originally thought I’d splurge and have a
room to myself, but then decided to forgo some modesty and save some money
so I could make a bigger contribution to the
Kerry campaign, or maybe even to make Bart’s pie a little higher.
;-)
After the trials of boarding and the flights,
I was a getting bit claustrophobic. As we were getting off the plane,
one of my
fellow passengers’ bags bounced off me a bit.
Its owner apologized profusely (must have been a Democrat). I assured
him
I was fine and that after all that time in the
seat, ANYTHING besides numb was a good feeling…
As I lugged my carry-ons off the ramp, I gravitated
toward some people holding a Boston Democratic Convention sign.
Hospitality folks immediately set upon me and
I was welcomed with the courtesy I so richly deserve <snicker>—oh, I
could get used to this! They were great!
They led me to my bags (which HADN’T missed the flight to Chicago) and
out to catch a cab for the Royal Sonesta Hotel.
I rode from the airport with a couple from DC
with the painters’ union. Already it’s been exciting seeing a beautiful
variety
of people from all different backgrounds and
stories coming together with good spirits and a mission: to change the
resident
at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue!
My cabbie first got the couple delivered to their
hotel, on the way to mine. We crossed a wonderful old bridge (since
found
to be the Longfellow Bridge) over the Charles
River. We drove up to my hotel—very nice! Looks like chairman
Jay Parmley
and his folks at the state party did us just
fine!
I was the first in my room to arrive. I
called home to let them know I’d made it that far. After getting
pretty well unpacked
and situated, my dormant hunger was awakening
with a vengeance. The dry sandwich I’d had on the plane from DFW
to
Boston Logan was adequate, but nothing more.
Having heard so much about that night’s not-to-be-missed reception,
I decided to walk to the mall across the street
and have a little “tune-up” snack. Walking out the door, I ran into
(not literally)
Oklahoma Governor Brad Henry (D?Shawnee)!
We chatted briefly and I explained my plans with my best Popeye imitation,
saying “Me belly thinks me slit me throat.”
I walked into the mall and down to its Food Court.
That’s when I knew I wasn’t’ in Oklahoma anymore. Thai fast food?
And sushi? Indian (“Bombay”, not “woo-woo”--homage
to Monty Python)? Boy, that’s a long way from burgers and tacos,
though they too were available. I picked
out some hot and sour soup, a chicken egg roll, and—yes!—they DID have
Dr. Pepper,
a concern of mine since DFW.
After a nice snack, I walked a bit outside the
hotel, which backed up to the Charles River separating Boston proper from
Cambridge (“our fair city”, as the Tappet Bros.
say). The weather was just perfect cool, very light breeze; just
the ticket
coming from Oklahoma’s long-awaited 100 degree
days. I enjoyed the views, took a few pictures, and shot some video.
At the reception, after we welcomed the First
Family of Oklahoma with a rousing rendition of our state song, “Oklahoma”,
I delivered my first BartCop.com CD into the
hands of none-other-than Governor Henry. I’ve been giving them out
with
a mild warning, “these have R-rated language,
but probably nothing you haven’t heard (especially since the 2000 presidential
campaign)”. To which my governor added
quietly, “…or probably used!”
We mingled and swapped stories of our travels.
To my shock and delight, it seemed NOBODY got much sleep the previous night!
We enjoyed various forms of mashed potatoes in
martini glasses and some excellent roast beast (beef). We heard what
turned into
a commercial for Legal Seafood (already on my
list) from a couple of Native Americans who’d driven in via New York.
“They brought the lobster out on a turkey platter—the
claw was as big as my hand—it was like that scene in ‘When Harry Met Sally’,
people were staring at us as we rolled our eyes,
moaned, and made ‘yummy sounds’!”
With the sun now long down, it actually felt cold.
I was nervous, as I was wearing the warmest casual clothes I’d brought,
a t-shirt and jeans. A woman said the gift
shop was well stocked with items such as the Harvard sweatshirt she was
snuggling in.
Hmmm, I’ll keep that in mind.
For a nightcap, I browsed the gift shop, purchasing
some postcards (and noticing that MIT shirts went for $10 less than Harvard
ones),
went to the hotel bar, and watched some Red Sox
v. (the dreaded) Yankees on TV. I wrote up a card for my family while
having a
couple of beers and chatting up some other delegates
(delegations from Arkansas and Oregon were staying here as well), including
my roommate.
After a bit, I headed back to the room, called home, telling all my womenfolk good night, and went to sleep myself.