The last employee bus for United leaves the center core at B Concourse for the airside employee parking lot at midnight. Consequently, everybody at DIA that late in the day wants to make sure they are on it. The alternative is to take the train to the A Concourse and go through those secure exits to ride the bus with other airline employees who work on the A Concourse. Believe me, you don't want to go THAT route.
I've had to do it a couple of times when we arrived AFTER the midnight cutoff. Once I was with some other United people who obviously had done that middle of the night thing before, and they left me while I was trying to badge myself through the door. By the time the bionic reader said "ACCESS GRANTED", they were long gone. And as I looked around in an unfamiliar place, I didn't have a clue where I was supposed to go. It didn't look at all like our bus pick-up areas. I was wandering around in the dark until I saw the lights of the bus approaching and then followed it as quickly as I could to board it several feet away. The other time I don't remember the details, but it was traumatic enough that I DO NOT want to ride the A Concourse bus if I can get out of it.
My trip yesterday was a long, but supposed to be easy, three-legged turn. Mid-afternoon check-in. Three short flights. Same plane. Same cockpit and flight attendant crew. Back by 11 p.m. Even if there were a wheel chair person we had to wait for, it would have been enough time for all passengers to deplane and take the back elevator to the first bus stop. All by midnight....
Only....it didn't happen that way.
When we got on the aircraft in Denver to go to Las Vegas, the pilot told us there was something wrong with the plane. We sat around waiting for mechanics. Finally when they came, they ascertained that we couldn't take that plane. So, we sat around waiting some more until they took an aircraft identical to ours that was coming in from --SOMEWHERE-- and had us take that instead. By then we were over an hour late leaving and the domino effect is in full force.
The next flight, same aircraft, is obviously late arriving in Las Vegas. Then it is late leaving Las Vegas for Los Angeles. Then it is even later leaving Los Angeles for Denver. We're looking at the time. Getting closer to midnight. Fortunately, ATC let us go "fast" and it narrowed the delay to about 40 minutes by the time we got to Denver.
Oh, but it's late night. By this time people have been asleep because they were tired of waiting in the gate area, or for whatever reason. They had a hard time waking up. The caterers and the cleaners were already onboard because this is a "quick turn" meaning the aircraft is late and there isn't the normal amount of time for it to be serviced. There is a jumble of people as I tried to get my suitcase and bags together to get off AND GET TO THE LAST BUS!
I had to run interference with the cleaners and finally shut the lavatory door on one cleaner so my suitcase could clear the small space left for me to go down the aisle. I hurried down the jetway and ran into the crew taking the plane to Dulles. My crew is nowhere in sight. There was no, "Hurry, Georgia. We'll hold the bus." Or taking a minute of two to make sure I was able to get off, too.
NAW! They didn't want to miss the bus either. And now with the mixed crews we have, there is none of the FA loyalty we used to give each other on the UA side as a courtesy. A "good-bye". Or a "nice flying with you." These people are off and gone!
By the time I crossed the concourse and let myself down to the "apron" level and rushed out the door to the tarmac, the bus was on its way to the next stop. Is all I saw were the tail lights.
"Wait! Wait!" As if they could hear me. I stood there and thought, "What am I going to do. Can I go back up the way I came down? And if I did, would I be fast enough to catch the bus at the center core after dodging all those people on the escalators?" Instead, I started to run down the tarmac to the next stop with my suitcase trailing behind me. It wasn't really THAT far away. I ran harder!
I heard a horn honking. Oh, now I'm in trouble for running in this area with all the ground equipment around. But it was a young ramp guy driving an empty baggage train. He pulled to a stop. "Get on! We'll catch it so you can make it out." He reached for my bag and my tote and then held out his hand. Instead I threw my suitcase onto the running board, hitched up my uniform and climbed up to sit in the seat beside him.
We took off! Yet that crazy bus was already stopped and gone at the center core. We screeched around the corner of the terminal and saw it racing to the stop where the ground people get on. It was almost like it was keeping just out of reach. As it got to the last stop, there was actually one lone person who was waiting to get onto the bus. We both yelled at him, "WAIT! WAIT! DON'T LET THE BUS LEAVE!" As that worker disappeared into the bus, I told the ramp guy to stop. I grabbed for my suitcase off the running board and nearly lost my balance as I tried to get to the bus door. The ramp guy was running right behind me with my bag and my tote.
I snapped everything together, told the ramp guy he was the BEST (if I'd had time I would have given him a big hug and a kiss--at least asked his name), and stumbled onto the bus with my stuff. And there were my crew members--shocked to see me! "What happened to you?" they said. We thought you had decided to go the other way." The dialog cloud over my head was saying, "Right! You really gave a care." I went to the back of the bus and sat down to catch my breath.
And that was the wild ride I had to make sure I caught the last bus. I still got home in the wee hours of the morning. But not the EARLY wee hours. Tender mercy for sure--and it will be an entry in the little gratitude journal my ministering sister gave me a few months ago.
Once again--ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!
Saturday, August 10, 2019
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
GLAMPING....
We sat on the tarmac last week in Phoenix for almost two hours while Denver International Airport was on an official ground stop because of lightning storms in the area.
After we got the news that it was going to be a lengthy delay, the other flight attendants and I went through the cabin with water for anyone who wanted a drink. Of course, there was the inevitable passenger that pitched a fit because we didn't give her the alcohol she wanted. Sorry, United doesn't have a liquor license to sell alcohol on the ground to our Economy passengers. And in First Class it is complimentary, so no liquor license needed there.
Water: take it or leave it!
Anyway, after we did that and I went through the cabin to pick up the empty cups, someone handed me a stack of newspapers. No USA Today, so I opened up the New York Times to peruse back in the galley while we were waiting. When I got to the sections most newspapers title the Home or Living section, my eye caught an article in the "Mansions" section about GLAMPING. I hadn't even heard of it. But it's apparently been around for a while with websites and products to sell for the people who have everything.
Obviously, this is a fusion of the words "glamorous" and "camping". The term implies a concept, not just a few steps up from how the majority of Americans camp out but, a whole story or more above and beyond the imagination into luxury digs for camping out --in your own back yard!
The two guys who were interviewed had a set-up not unlike how I suspect rich Arabs who lived in the desert established housekeeping as they lived their nomadic lives.
I mean this was really something! The tents they showed cost upwards of $37,000. Bedroom furniture and bedding was also astronomically priced. And everything looked sumptuous--and pretty inviting. Straight out of House Beautiful!
I've always said my ideal campsite was a hotel that "locked and flushed". But I think I might be able to spend a night or two in my own back yard in an outfit like that. Too bad we aren't living in the Secrest Court house. There would at least be some space around us. The guys in the pictured article had their campsite somewhere on their huge Texas ranch.
Check it out....glamping may just be the next thing you want to put on your bucket list!
After we got the news that it was going to be a lengthy delay, the other flight attendants and I went through the cabin with water for anyone who wanted a drink. Of course, there was the inevitable passenger that pitched a fit because we didn't give her the alcohol she wanted. Sorry, United doesn't have a liquor license to sell alcohol on the ground to our Economy passengers. And in First Class it is complimentary, so no liquor license needed there.
Water: take it or leave it!
Anyway, after we did that and I went through the cabin to pick up the empty cups, someone handed me a stack of newspapers. No USA Today, so I opened up the New York Times to peruse back in the galley while we were waiting. When I got to the sections most newspapers title the Home or Living section, my eye caught an article in the "Mansions" section about GLAMPING. I hadn't even heard of it. But it's apparently been around for a while with websites and products to sell for the people who have everything.
Obviously, this is a fusion of the words "glamorous" and "camping". The term implies a concept, not just a few steps up from how the majority of Americans camp out but, a whole story or more above and beyond the imagination into luxury digs for camping out --in your own back yard!
The two guys who were interviewed had a set-up not unlike how I suspect rich Arabs who lived in the desert established housekeeping as they lived their nomadic lives.
I mean this was really something! The tents they showed cost upwards of $37,000. Bedroom furniture and bedding was also astronomically priced. And everything looked sumptuous--and pretty inviting. Straight out of House Beautiful!
I've always said my ideal campsite was a hotel that "locked and flushed". But I think I might be able to spend a night or two in my own back yard in an outfit like that. Too bad we aren't living in the Secrest Court house. There would at least be some space around us. The guys in the pictured article had their campsite somewhere on their huge Texas ranch.
Check it out....glamping may just be the next thing you want to put on your bucket list!
Saturday, July 20, 2019
THE EAGLE LANDED...AND 50 YEARS FLEW BY!
Fifty years!
When Ross and I got married in January of 1969, we decided we weren't going to spend what little time we had at home together after work each night and all day Saturday in front of the television. Ross said TV had been a fixture in their house since he was in his early school years. He had gotten over the novelty of it. Television broadcasting didn't come to Rawlins until I was in elementary school, and we didn't have a TV in our home until I was in the 6th grade. By then I had long learned how to entertain myself with books and reading. TV didn't have any particular hold on me either. So, we turned off the television.
A few months later in July 1969, the TV in our apartment came to life again. We were among the billions of people around the world who were breathlessly tuned in to see every detail of the moon landing we could. It was heady stuff. Could this bold endeavor actually be becoming a reality?
The Space Race had been going on for over a decade since the Russians had been the first to orbit the moon in the late 1950's. Consequently, all the details of the space program were constantly before the people in the newspapers and on television. In fact, as is so very easy to do, the whole NASA thing was probably viewed as one big piece of machinery doing all the critical scientific stuff behind the scenes to make the rockets work and get the astronauts prepared. It was always THEY. I think very few people really thought in singular terms of the hundreds of individuals who literally dedicated their lives to this endeavor which had been a challenging assignment to NASA by President John F. Kennedy of the United States eight years earlier.
In the years leading up to the actual moon walk, anything that was happening in space was merely a backdrop for everyone's everyday lives. The space program was just there. All the time. We heard about it, we read about it, and we saw it on television. Each time the unmanned--and then the manned rockets--took off into space, those triumphant successes and the terrible tragedies when things didn't go as planned, were right there coloring our lives. Like when The first American orbited the moon and then when another rocket caught fire on the launch pad resulting in the death of three astronauts.
I don't want to say it became boring. But over the years, the whole scenario was "just there". It became common place. Nothing really special. Sometimes the successes were so numerous, it was pretty hard to see how difficult each piece of the project was in reality and how critical to the overall objective for an American to be the first person to walk on the moon.
But all that changed in the weeks and days before the moon walk. It was on the front pages of the newspapers again. The television news was full of visual details at the Kennedy Space Center in Houston. Most people hung on every detail of the progress, what the astronauts and their wives and families were doing--perhaps during their last times together--and what the expectations of Apollo 11 were in performance and mission completion.
(Almost everyone, that is. Yes, there were those who DIDN'T want it to succeed and were sure it was all one big hoax by the government for a photo op that would be convincing enough for the world to believe America had won the Space Race which had been going on for more than 10 years.)
Finally Apollo 11 lifted off the launch pad in a Saturn V rocket on July 16th, and the world held bated breath for four days during its journey in outer space until the lunar module Eagle separated from the command module Columbia piloted by Michael Collins and landed at the Sea of Tranquility on the moon. July 20, 1969, 8:56 MDT. And THAT was when the world released its collective breath and freed all that tension. It was finally time for the first man to walk on the moon--an American astronaut was going to be the one to do it!
Neil Armstrong awkwardly climbed down the ladder on the Eagle (awkward because of the bulkiness of his space suit and the lack of gravity) so he could utter those famous words, "One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind", Buzz Aldrin gave a simple but powerful description of the moon's surface. He called it "magnificent desolation." The two astronauts explored the moon's surface, collecting samples, and taking pictures for about two hours.
I personally thought it was important that they left behind an American flag, a patch honoring those astronauts who had been killed, and a brass plate on the lunar module Eagle that reads, "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind."
It was an occasion to remember that beautiful summer night in Denver at 253 Gant Street when Ross and I sat there in our apartment watching an American astronaut walking on the moon! We were overcome with emotion. We were giddy! There were also tears of relief and joy for everything that had transpired. We almost forgot those astronauts still had to come back to earth for the mission to be successful.
Fifty years!
None of my children was even born yet! (Harold, the oldest, arrived three months later.) So they have never lived in a time when man had not yet walked on the moon. Life has whizzed by with all the joys and sorrows that living on earth at this time can bring. Many of our everyday gadgets and technology were first developed when stuff had to be invented to get man to outer space--and then to the moon. I thought it was terrific then that all those rockets had been prepared and utilized for that lunar mission. My mind boggles now all over again since the news has again focused on what an incredible feat it really was. That it even happened at all is a testament to so many people!
I have found myself holding my breath AGAIN when I have re-watched the footage of the actual moon walk--even though I KNOW how the story ends! And I have been moved to tears that workers and the teams at the space programs didn't hesitate to put God in their comments and thankfulness for His goodness and blessings of protection for them all. On one of the missions the Christmas before, the astronaut orbiting the moon at that time even read from Genesis in the Bible about the creation, as the astronauts saw the earth rise in outer space--just as we see the moon rise. It was beautiful!
How could I have been so lucky to be alive at that time to witness such a profound event? Likewise it's been a great experience during the last few weeks to re-live those never to-be-forgotten occurrences. But.....
Fifty years!
When Ross and I got married in January of 1969, we decided we weren't going to spend what little time we had at home together after work each night and all day Saturday in front of the television. Ross said TV had been a fixture in their house since he was in his early school years. He had gotten over the novelty of it. Television broadcasting didn't come to Rawlins until I was in elementary school, and we didn't have a TV in our home until I was in the 6th grade. By then I had long learned how to entertain myself with books and reading. TV didn't have any particular hold on me either. So, we turned off the television.
A few months later in July 1969, the TV in our apartment came to life again. We were among the billions of people around the world who were breathlessly tuned in to see every detail of the moon landing we could. It was heady stuff. Could this bold endeavor actually be becoming a reality?
The Space Race had been going on for over a decade since the Russians had been the first to orbit the moon in the late 1950's. Consequently, all the details of the space program were constantly before the people in the newspapers and on television. In fact, as is so very easy to do, the whole NASA thing was probably viewed as one big piece of machinery doing all the critical scientific stuff behind the scenes to make the rockets work and get the astronauts prepared. It was always THEY. I think very few people really thought in singular terms of the hundreds of individuals who literally dedicated their lives to this endeavor which had been a challenging assignment to NASA by President John F. Kennedy of the United States eight years earlier.
In the years leading up to the actual moon walk, anything that was happening in space was merely a backdrop for everyone's everyday lives. The space program was just there. All the time. We heard about it, we read about it, and we saw it on television. Each time the unmanned--and then the manned rockets--took off into space, those triumphant successes and the terrible tragedies when things didn't go as planned, were right there coloring our lives. Like when The first American orbited the moon and then when another rocket caught fire on the launch pad resulting in the death of three astronauts.
I don't want to say it became boring. But over the years, the whole scenario was "just there". It became common place. Nothing really special. Sometimes the successes were so numerous, it was pretty hard to see how difficult each piece of the project was in reality and how critical to the overall objective for an American to be the first person to walk on the moon.
But all that changed in the weeks and days before the moon walk. It was on the front pages of the newspapers again. The television news was full of visual details at the Kennedy Space Center in Houston. Most people hung on every detail of the progress, what the astronauts and their wives and families were doing--perhaps during their last times together--and what the expectations of Apollo 11 were in performance and mission completion.
(Almost everyone, that is. Yes, there were those who DIDN'T want it to succeed and were sure it was all one big hoax by the government for a photo op that would be convincing enough for the world to believe America had won the Space Race which had been going on for more than 10 years.)
Finally Apollo 11 lifted off the launch pad in a Saturn V rocket on July 16th, and the world held bated breath for four days during its journey in outer space until the lunar module Eagle separated from the command module Columbia piloted by Michael Collins and landed at the Sea of Tranquility on the moon. July 20, 1969, 8:56 MDT. And THAT was when the world released its collective breath and freed all that tension. It was finally time for the first man to walk on the moon--an American astronaut was going to be the one to do it!
Neil Armstrong awkwardly climbed down the ladder on the Eagle (awkward because of the bulkiness of his space suit and the lack of gravity) so he could utter those famous words, "One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind", Buzz Aldrin gave a simple but powerful description of the moon's surface. He called it "magnificent desolation." The two astronauts explored the moon's surface, collecting samples, and taking pictures for about two hours.
I personally thought it was important that they left behind an American flag, a patch honoring those astronauts who had been killed, and a brass plate on the lunar module Eagle that reads, "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind."
It was an occasion to remember that beautiful summer night in Denver at 253 Gant Street when Ross and I sat there in our apartment watching an American astronaut walking on the moon! We were overcome with emotion. We were giddy! There were also tears of relief and joy for everything that had transpired. We almost forgot those astronauts still had to come back to earth for the mission to be successful.
Fifty years!
None of my children was even born yet! (Harold, the oldest, arrived three months later.) So they have never lived in a time when man had not yet walked on the moon. Life has whizzed by with all the joys and sorrows that living on earth at this time can bring. Many of our everyday gadgets and technology were first developed when stuff had to be invented to get man to outer space--and then to the moon. I thought it was terrific then that all those rockets had been prepared and utilized for that lunar mission. My mind boggles now all over again since the news has again focused on what an incredible feat it really was. That it even happened at all is a testament to so many people!
I have found myself holding my breath AGAIN when I have re-watched the footage of the actual moon walk--even though I KNOW how the story ends! And I have been moved to tears that workers and the teams at the space programs didn't hesitate to put God in their comments and thankfulness for His goodness and blessings of protection for them all. On one of the missions the Christmas before, the astronaut orbiting the moon at that time even read from Genesis in the Bible about the creation, as the astronauts saw the earth rise in outer space--just as we see the moon rise. It was beautiful!
How could I have been so lucky to be alive at that time to witness such a profound event? Likewise it's been a great experience during the last few weeks to re-live those never to-be-forgotten occurrences. But.....
Fifty years!
Sunday, June 30, 2019
STANDING UP....
Last week in our Come Follow Me study, we reviewed in all four of the Gospels some lessons from Pilate's experience with Christ about standing up for what we know is right.
First, Pilate's wife told him to have nothing to do with this situation. She had had a dream and knew of herself that Jesus was innocent. Pilate also knew Jesus Christ was innocent of the crimes that the Jews tried to charge Him with. He gave the crowd of people, who by now had been agitated by rabble rousers spurred by the ruling Jewish leaders, an opportunity more than once to let Jesus go. It was not lost on Pilate that the people were only demanding Jesus die because basically they were jealous of Him and His popularity with they people. THEY were the rulers. THEY would call the shots. And Christ was inconvenient to have around.
It would have been so easy for Pilate to just do the right thing. But.... for Pilate these are some of the things that were important to him and therefore he didn't take a stand for the right
.
1--His Roman background because he asked Christ, "What is truth?" He was a relativist. Truth is whatever is happening at the moment. Almost persuaded, but not sure to believe the spirit he must have felt. Much of this was ingrained in him from early boyhood, I would imagine.
2--His Roman leadership position. He was one of the leaders chosen by valor, influence, appointment, merit....whatever... to rule on some gubernatorial level in Jerusalem at this time. He was afraid of losing face with the Romans if he let Jesus go and there was an uprising of the local populace against his judgement. He was afraid the Jews WOULD stage an uprising if he didn't let them have Barabas. So, the only answer for him was to symbolically wash his hands "of this innocent man". He opted out. Didn't stand for what he knew was right.
Why am I retelling my version of Christ's story?
Last Friday when I opened up the Book of Mormon in the Philadelphia Marriott Courtyard where we stay, I was shocked to see scribbled on the title page a nasty note which said, "BLESSED BE! THE GODDESS IS ALIVE AND MAGIC IS AFOOT!"
It stunned me, and I found myself shaking in some kind of distress and with anger for this desecration to such a miraculous book. My first impulse was to tear out the page and destroy it. There was still a blank second page to write my testimony. So, I did. Both things.
Later that day when we were on the plane --a sixteen hour delayed flight to Chicago and a radical change to our own schedule--we were waiting for some catering glitch to get taken care of so we could push back.
My phone dinged. I clicked on the text icon to see who was sending me a message. Another shock.
"Hi. I just came across a Book of Mormon at a hotel that I am working at and wanted to let you know that it is against the law to deface property that doesn't belong to you."
I checked the area code. It was from Louisiana. Only we don't stay at a Marriott hotel of ANY brand in New Orleans, which is the only airport we fly into on Mainline. We stay at a Hilton Hotel both at the airport and downtown. So, this person must have gone somewhere else to work.
It could be anywhere, as I write my testimony signed with Georgia Nichols, Johnstown, Colorado, 303-918-1127 in EVERY Marriott branded hotel where we stay, and I have found a complimentary copy of the Book of Mormon in the nightstand drawer.
We were a long time sitting there on the ground waiting for the catering glitch to get resolved. The whole time I was wondering what I should do. Write a nasty reply. Ignore it. Argue the the Book of Mormon.... What?
I found myself thinking about those last hours Christ spent in Jerusalem, suffering the indignities of the people who mocked Him, scoffed at Him, and spit on Him. Charged with crimes he was innocent of, still he maintained His majesty and taught us all how we should act. He was acting then as He had taught all during His earthly ministry by example. Be true. Stand up for what is right. Don't get caught up with what the opposition is throwing at you.
I then formulated my reply by text and wrote to this unknown person.
"Hi. Thank your for your message. But those books are complimentary copies meant for the guests.
I left my testimony of the book's veracity and truthfulness for someone else who would like to take the copy and read it. Someone who is seeking for truth. And for a witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
And it wasn't defaced. Defacing is scribbling and making rude, derogatory comments.
Mine was a thoughtful invitation to read the Book of Mormon and lift your life.
I'm sorry you were offended.
Georgia Nichols"
One of my friends in the ward once asked me if I weren't afraid to put my name and phone number with my testimony. I told her, "no". I felt like my personal information gave credence to what I said. It wasn't just some anonymous comments. It was a testimony of something I know is true. It was through my name and number that two people have contacted me in a positive way about finding my testimony in the Book of Mormon in their Marriott Hotel room in Calgary and Omaha.
I felt good. The words I texted were an inspired message of love and invitation which I hope are pondered and taken to heart--perhaps first out of curiosity, then out of desire to know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
Best of all was the feeling that I had stood up for something right!
Implementing a lesson to make a difference in our life...isn't THAT what Come Follow Me is all about?
First, Pilate's wife told him to have nothing to do with this situation. She had had a dream and knew of herself that Jesus was innocent. Pilate also knew Jesus Christ was innocent of the crimes that the Jews tried to charge Him with. He gave the crowd of people, who by now had been agitated by rabble rousers spurred by the ruling Jewish leaders, an opportunity more than once to let Jesus go. It was not lost on Pilate that the people were only demanding Jesus die because basically they were jealous of Him and His popularity with they people. THEY were the rulers. THEY would call the shots. And Christ was inconvenient to have around.
It would have been so easy for Pilate to just do the right thing. But.... for Pilate these are some of the things that were important to him and therefore he didn't take a stand for the right
.
1--His Roman background because he asked Christ, "What is truth?" He was a relativist. Truth is whatever is happening at the moment. Almost persuaded, but not sure to believe the spirit he must have felt. Much of this was ingrained in him from early boyhood, I would imagine.
2--His Roman leadership position. He was one of the leaders chosen by valor, influence, appointment, merit....whatever... to rule on some gubernatorial level in Jerusalem at this time. He was afraid of losing face with the Romans if he let Jesus go and there was an uprising of the local populace against his judgement. He was afraid the Jews WOULD stage an uprising if he didn't let them have Barabas. So, the only answer for him was to symbolically wash his hands "of this innocent man". He opted out. Didn't stand for what he knew was right.
Why am I retelling my version of Christ's story?
Last Friday when I opened up the Book of Mormon in the Philadelphia Marriott Courtyard where we stay, I was shocked to see scribbled on the title page a nasty note which said, "BLESSED BE! THE GODDESS IS ALIVE AND MAGIC IS AFOOT!"
It stunned me, and I found myself shaking in some kind of distress and with anger for this desecration to such a miraculous book. My first impulse was to tear out the page and destroy it. There was still a blank second page to write my testimony. So, I did. Both things.
Later that day when we were on the plane --a sixteen hour delayed flight to Chicago and a radical change to our own schedule--we were waiting for some catering glitch to get taken care of so we could push back.
My phone dinged. I clicked on the text icon to see who was sending me a message. Another shock.
"Hi. I just came across a Book of Mormon at a hotel that I am working at and wanted to let you know that it is against the law to deface property that doesn't belong to you."
I checked the area code. It was from Louisiana. Only we don't stay at a Marriott hotel of ANY brand in New Orleans, which is the only airport we fly into on Mainline. We stay at a Hilton Hotel both at the airport and downtown. So, this person must have gone somewhere else to work.
It could be anywhere, as I write my testimony signed with Georgia Nichols, Johnstown, Colorado, 303-918-1127 in EVERY Marriott branded hotel where we stay, and I have found a complimentary copy of the Book of Mormon in the nightstand drawer.
We were a long time sitting there on the ground waiting for the catering glitch to get resolved. The whole time I was wondering what I should do. Write a nasty reply. Ignore it. Argue the the Book of Mormon.... What?
I found myself thinking about those last hours Christ spent in Jerusalem, suffering the indignities of the people who mocked Him, scoffed at Him, and spit on Him. Charged with crimes he was innocent of, still he maintained His majesty and taught us all how we should act. He was acting then as He had taught all during His earthly ministry by example. Be true. Stand up for what is right. Don't get caught up with what the opposition is throwing at you.
I then formulated my reply by text and wrote to this unknown person.
"Hi. Thank your for your message. But those books are complimentary copies meant for the guests.
I left my testimony of the book's veracity and truthfulness for someone else who would like to take the copy and read it. Someone who is seeking for truth. And for a witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
And it wasn't defaced. Defacing is scribbling and making rude, derogatory comments.
Mine was a thoughtful invitation to read the Book of Mormon and lift your life.
I'm sorry you were offended.
Georgia Nichols"
One of my friends in the ward once asked me if I weren't afraid to put my name and phone number with my testimony. I told her, "no". I felt like my personal information gave credence to what I said. It wasn't just some anonymous comments. It was a testimony of something I know is true. It was through my name and number that two people have contacted me in a positive way about finding my testimony in the Book of Mormon in their Marriott Hotel room in Calgary and Omaha.
I felt good. The words I texted were an inspired message of love and invitation which I hope are pondered and taken to heart--perhaps first out of curiosity, then out of desire to know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
Best of all was the feeling that I had stood up for something right!
Implementing a lesson to make a difference in our life...isn't THAT what Come Follow Me is all about?
Monday, June 24, 2019
JURY DUTY
NOTE: I actually wrote this on a layover in Chicago. Mon 6/10/2019 3:43 PM
I was off for cataract surgery last fall when a summons came for me to report for Jury Duty in Weld County Colorado. It was easy as could be to go online and give my regrets....couldn't because of my current health status. So, when did I think I could
be available? Well, I knew I had some vacation time in May, so put that in the box on the questionaire.
Forgot all about it until I opened up the mailbox the end of April and saw the familiar official business communication. Sure enough....my date was for May but skipped the dates I was off on vacation. Instead my report time coincided with my very last trip in May when I was supposed to have a layover in Charleston, South Carolina.
So, I went through the rigamaroll at United to alert them about my civic duty--new procedure since last time and now all electronic. No longer just tell my supervisor and they put that info into my line schedule. Instead it entailed "opening a case" with a whole raft of instructions as what United expected from me as an employee as I was fulfilling my turn at the court. The first thing that happened was that three day trip with a layover in Charleston just disappeared! I was cleared for duty from May 29th through June 2nd. Surely I was NOT going to be need for all those days! However, as soon as I was released from my assignment, I was supposed to fill out the second half of that "case", submit it, and call the Crew Desk for reassignment. Okay.....
I used to get jury duty summons fairly frequently in Jefferson County--maybe once every other year--but except for one time that I remember, my juror number was never among those on the phone message that had to show up at the courthouse.
It seems like I had a summons in Weld County not long after we moved to Johnstown, but truthfully I couldn't remember if my number had been among the list on the phone tape the week before of those to report or not to report. But I suspected since I had postponed it this time, my number was going to be among those who were expected to report. Colorado has a one day/one trial system. Then the citizen is free until the next summons, possibly the following year. That didn't sound tooooo bad. Doable.
Sure enough--my number was third in the range of scores of numbers on the phone tape. Okay, but even though I had to appear in person, perhaps my number would not be called when I got there.
Since Louis had had jury duty in January and had to actually show up and report--but was dismissed because he is qualified as a forensic accountant--I made him take me over to Greeley to show me where I was supposed to park and what building I was supposed to enter. That phone message with all the details AFTER the number list was more than lengthy. Just let someone in the know show me the ropes. Louis did. Park at the train station and walk up 10th Street four blocks to the Municipal Center and go into the north entrance. THAT eased my mind ALOT.
For some reason I was really stressed out about this whole business. I tried to think why and finally came up with the fact the Crew Desk was going to be involved in some way. They have been out of my life since the two flight attendant groups merged last October, and I have not had to be on Reserve --and sleep with the phone by my bed and be at the mercy of whatever screw-up operation was happening at United at that particular time. Going back to that apprehension did a number on me, for sure.
But May 29th was a beautiful day. I left plenty of time to be at that door in the Municipal Building by 7:45. The walk up the street was fine, and I was really hoping my number wasn't going to be picked.
Registered....and sat waiting for almost an hour until all 170 plus people were through security and checked in.
The clerk readied herself to call numbers and said if our number was called, state our name and go through Door X. Five-six-eight-six! I responded with "Georgia Nichols" and walked to the exit door. Okay again. But maybe there was still a chance I could go home. If I did I would have to call the Crew Desk, but I would at least have the rest of that beautiful day free and clear--like I had gotten out of school early or something.
Shuffled up to the courtroom with about two dozen people. There were going to be three trials that day and ours was the only one where the judge was ready. The other two groups had to wait as there was some bargaining going on that might make the case settle out of court.
Wowee! Jackpot! My number was one of the first ones called to go sit in the jury box. Still a chance I might not have to stay. The only other time--in Jefferson County--that I got that far, I was dismissed when the lawyers started asking questions about family, occupation, etc.
This trial was a DUI. Was there anyone who doesn't drink--and why. My hand shot up. Never have. Never will. Religious reasons. Okay. They kept me. Did anyone know of someone who was arrested for a DUI? Again told my story. Still in the jury box. The other questions were straightforward, too, but really had nothing to do with me. I didn't know anyone in the courtroom seated at the Defendant's table or at the Prosecutor's table. And, obviously I passed muster on the other questions, as well, because I found myself with five other people (this was a six person jury) being sworn in as a group to perform unbiased decision according to the law and the evidence presented.
Well, I can tell you it wasn't at all like the movies or TV! The young woman who was the prosecutor kept making a bunch of legal mistakes for which the judge had to guide her through the proper procedure. In fact, I felt like I was watching a bunch of rank amateurs. The testimonies were clumsy. The evidence presented was difficult to see clearly even on the big screen. The defense lawyer was an older man with gray hair who kept rolling his eyes.....
Anyway, the defendant was the only person who seemed to be "in the know". He was a 12 year veteran of the Army. Had served in Iraq and Afganistan twice where he had sustained injuries both times from land mines. The second time he was injured, he received a medical discharge from the Army. He was clean cut. Well-groomed. Articulate. And this was his story....
After he healed from his injuries--which included knee and back injuries--he got a job as an operator on a drilling rig. At the time he was working somewhere east of Greeley near Kersey. Horrific hours. Twelve hours on. Twelve off for several days at a time.
On a break of days sometime last October, he arranged to meet a friend whom he had not seen for three years at a convenience store in Kersey about 6 a.m. after their 12 hour shifts. The friend was working on another rig from South Dakota, but was currently assigned to a rig also somewhere on the plains. They met as planned.
Here's where the evidence and testimony got tricky. The defendant couldn't pin down any times when they had been to the convenience store, when they left to go get something to eat--and by his own admission--drinks at Fuzzy's where HUGE Margaritas are served. He and the friend both had some and the friend also picked up additional drinks at a liquor store. A 12 pack of beer. Because they had been drinking, they drove back roads to the convenience store to where one of the cars had remained parked.
Now the plot thickens. The convenience store called in an accident report to 911 at 4 pm that afternoon when the defendant's car hit the building right near the main entrance. The pictures show the car at the building but not crashed through the wall into it. The policeman--Chief of Police at Kersey but who also has to double as a patrol officer--found the defendant and his friend slumped over in the front seats completely in a comatose state when he arrived. The car was not running, but the keys were in the ignition.
For some reason witnesses weren't interviewed at the scene. The security tapes weren't secured for the hours and hours from the 6 a.m. meet-up until the call to 911. The police chief had no body cam to take pictures that were accurate, so the pictures were taken of the inside of the car with empty beer cans the next day. And, the police used an out of date alcohol test when the defendant refused a road-side test, apparently because he knew he had bad knees and would not be able to walk a straight line.
Here is what the jurors where charged to find: Guilty of the higher offense of DUI or of a lesser offense. The law states that a person can be charged with a DUI even if a vehicle is not moving if the windows, radio, heater/AC have been used since that is defined as "operating". They had been used. The radio....
The defendant freely testified that he had had too much to drink. But his argument was that he DID NOT run his car into the building. He said he had parked it there before the two friends took off for food and drink at Fuzzy's in Greeley. So, he felt he wasn't guilty.
Well, we had no choice but to bring a verdict of guilty according to the law. He was too drunk to operate a vehicle safely. I'm pretty sure that when he went to court in January and was convicted of a DUI, he thought he would take a chance on a jury trial to lessen the charge. Instead we found the same evidence produced the same verdict, according to the law.
The jury actually lasted into the second day. (The other two cases had settled out of court, so we six were the only people out of 170 who had to stay for jury duty at all.) Before we went home for the first night, we were given instructions not to talk to ANYONE about the case, not to drive out to the convenience store in Kersey to get a look at it, etc. etc. etc. It made me very contemplative and weary in spirit that the next day at the end of testimony, we on the jury were going to have to deliberate this man's guilt or innocence. We could not let personal feelings, emotions, or any other thought process impede making a decision solely on the evidence and testimony at hand. That was hard. And it had to be unanimous. We discussed over and over what we had before us before we took a vote.
I felt bad for the guy. He was sorry. He said he had made a mistake. But there was a gap of information we didn't have to help us--the timing of all this for the most part. Also, you can be sure the Kersey Police Department now has up to date alcohol test kits, body cams for their officers, and a realization that an investigation can't be so lackadaisical.
The overriding fact: if a person has had too much to drink STAY OUT OF A CAR whether it is running or not. That's what it came down to when we had to decide. He was drunk. But out of the car, he would have been okay.
I went home after the jury was dismissed. I sat down in the chair and felt weak knowing that on June 12th, the judge was going to pronounce sentence. Whatever that was going to be.
I have often said that I would like to be called to actually sit on a jury. But I found out I didn't like it so much. And now I hope that when my number comes up again, I get sent home before it ever gets started.
Courtroom drama ain't as glamorous as it is on the screen.
PS I also called the crew desk to let them know I was available for assignment the following day--the third in my original block of days. On hold FOREVER listening to Rhapsody in Blue until I gave up and started again in the morning at 6 am after my walk. Still no response. So, I called and left a message for my supervisor: I had done everything the "case" said I was supposed to. But since I couldn't get hold of the crew desk, and I had been cleared for five days, I was just going to go about my business. Never heard from them, but got paid for three days equivalent on my pay record.
THE END
Forgot all about it until I opened up the mailbox the end of April and saw the familiar official business communication. Sure enough....my date was for May but skipped the dates I was off on vacation. Instead my report time coincided with my very last trip in May when I was supposed to have a layover in Charleston, South Carolina.
So, I went through the rigamaroll at United to alert them about my civic duty--new procedure since last time and now all electronic. No longer just tell my supervisor and they put that info into my line schedule. Instead it entailed "opening a case" with a whole raft of instructions as what United expected from me as an employee as I was fulfilling my turn at the court. The first thing that happened was that three day trip with a layover in Charleston just disappeared! I was cleared for duty from May 29th through June 2nd. Surely I was NOT going to be need for all those days! However, as soon as I was released from my assignment, I was supposed to fill out the second half of that "case", submit it, and call the Crew Desk for reassignment. Okay.....
I used to get jury duty summons fairly frequently in Jefferson County--maybe once every other year--but except for one time that I remember, my juror number was never among those on the phone message that had to show up at the courthouse.
It seems like I had a summons in Weld County not long after we moved to Johnstown, but truthfully I couldn't remember if my number had been among the list on the phone tape the week before of those to report or not to report. But I suspected since I had postponed it this time, my number was going to be among those who were expected to report. Colorado has a one day/one trial system. Then the citizen is free until the next summons, possibly the following year. That didn't sound tooooo bad. Doable.
Sure enough--my number was third in the range of scores of numbers on the phone tape. Okay, but even though I had to appear in person, perhaps my number would not be called when I got there.
Since Louis had had jury duty in January and had to actually show up and report--but was dismissed because he is qualified as a forensic accountant--I made him take me over to Greeley to show me where I was supposed to park and what building I was supposed to enter. That phone message with all the details AFTER the number list was more than lengthy. Just let someone in the know show me the ropes. Louis did. Park at the train station and walk up 10th Street four blocks to the Municipal Center and go into the north entrance. THAT eased my mind ALOT.
For some reason I was really stressed out about this whole business. I tried to think why and finally came up with the fact the Crew Desk was going to be involved in some way. They have been out of my life since the two flight attendant groups merged last October, and I have not had to be on Reserve --and sleep with the phone by my bed and be at the mercy of whatever screw-up operation was happening at United at that particular time. Going back to that apprehension did a number on me, for sure.
But May 29th was a beautiful day. I left plenty of time to be at that door in the Municipal Building by 7:45. The walk up the street was fine, and I was really hoping my number wasn't going to be picked.
Registered....and sat waiting for almost an hour until all 170 plus people were through security and checked in.
The clerk readied herself to call numbers and said if our number was called, state our name and go through Door X. Five-six-eight-six! I responded with "Georgia Nichols" and walked to the exit door. Okay again. But maybe there was still a chance I could go home. If I did I would have to call the Crew Desk, but I would at least have the rest of that beautiful day free and clear--like I had gotten out of school early or something.
Shuffled up to the courtroom with about two dozen people. There were going to be three trials that day and ours was the only one where the judge was ready. The other two groups had to wait as there was some bargaining going on that might make the case settle out of court.
Wowee! Jackpot! My number was one of the first ones called to go sit in the jury box. Still a chance I might not have to stay. The only other time--in Jefferson County--that I got that far, I was dismissed when the lawyers started asking questions about family, occupation, etc.
This trial was a DUI. Was there anyone who doesn't drink--and why. My hand shot up. Never have. Never will. Religious reasons. Okay. They kept me. Did anyone know of someone who was arrested for a DUI? Again told my story. Still in the jury box. The other questions were straightforward, too, but really had nothing to do with me. I didn't know anyone in the courtroom seated at the Defendant's table or at the Prosecutor's table. And, obviously I passed muster on the other questions, as well, because I found myself with five other people (this was a six person jury) being sworn in as a group to perform unbiased decision according to the law and the evidence presented.
Well, I can tell you it wasn't at all like the movies or TV! The young woman who was the prosecutor kept making a bunch of legal mistakes for which the judge had to guide her through the proper procedure. In fact, I felt like I was watching a bunch of rank amateurs. The testimonies were clumsy. The evidence presented was difficult to see clearly even on the big screen. The defense lawyer was an older man with gray hair who kept rolling his eyes.....
Anyway, the defendant was the only person who seemed to be "in the know". He was a 12 year veteran of the Army. Had served in Iraq and Afganistan twice where he had sustained injuries both times from land mines. The second time he was injured, he received a medical discharge from the Army. He was clean cut. Well-groomed. Articulate. And this was his story....
After he healed from his injuries--which included knee and back injuries--he got a job as an operator on a drilling rig. At the time he was working somewhere east of Greeley near Kersey. Horrific hours. Twelve hours on. Twelve off for several days at a time.
On a break of days sometime last October, he arranged to meet a friend whom he had not seen for three years at a convenience store in Kersey about 6 a.m. after their 12 hour shifts. The friend was working on another rig from South Dakota, but was currently assigned to a rig also somewhere on the plains. They met as planned.
Here's where the evidence and testimony got tricky. The defendant couldn't pin down any times when they had been to the convenience store, when they left to go get something to eat--and by his own admission--drinks at Fuzzy's where HUGE Margaritas are served. He and the friend both had some and the friend also picked up additional drinks at a liquor store. A 12 pack of beer. Because they had been drinking, they drove back roads to the convenience store to where one of the cars had remained parked.
Now the plot thickens. The convenience store called in an accident report to 911 at 4 pm that afternoon when the defendant's car hit the building right near the main entrance. The pictures show the car at the building but not crashed through the wall into it. The policeman--Chief of Police at Kersey but who also has to double as a patrol officer--found the defendant and his friend slumped over in the front seats completely in a comatose state when he arrived. The car was not running, but the keys were in the ignition.
For some reason witnesses weren't interviewed at the scene. The security tapes weren't secured for the hours and hours from the 6 a.m. meet-up until the call to 911. The police chief had no body cam to take pictures that were accurate, so the pictures were taken of the inside of the car with empty beer cans the next day. And, the police used an out of date alcohol test when the defendant refused a road-side test, apparently because he knew he had bad knees and would not be able to walk a straight line.
Here is what the jurors where charged to find: Guilty of the higher offense of DUI or of a lesser offense. The law states that a person can be charged with a DUI even if a vehicle is not moving if the windows, radio, heater/AC have been used since that is defined as "operating". They had been used. The radio....
The defendant freely testified that he had had too much to drink. But his argument was that he DID NOT run his car into the building. He said he had parked it there before the two friends took off for food and drink at Fuzzy's in Greeley. So, he felt he wasn't guilty.
Well, we had no choice but to bring a verdict of guilty according to the law. He was too drunk to operate a vehicle safely. I'm pretty sure that when he went to court in January and was convicted of a DUI, he thought he would take a chance on a jury trial to lessen the charge. Instead we found the same evidence produced the same verdict, according to the law.
The jury actually lasted into the second day. (The other two cases had settled out of court, so we six were the only people out of 170 who had to stay for jury duty at all.) Before we went home for the first night, we were given instructions not to talk to ANYONE about the case, not to drive out to the convenience store in Kersey to get a look at it, etc. etc. etc. It made me very contemplative and weary in spirit that the next day at the end of testimony, we on the jury were going to have to deliberate this man's guilt or innocence. We could not let personal feelings, emotions, or any other thought process impede making a decision solely on the evidence and testimony at hand. That was hard. And it had to be unanimous. We discussed over and over what we had before us before we took a vote.
I felt bad for the guy. He was sorry. He said he had made a mistake. But there was a gap of information we didn't have to help us--the timing of all this for the most part. Also, you can be sure the Kersey Police Department now has up to date alcohol test kits, body cams for their officers, and a realization that an investigation can't be so lackadaisical.
The overriding fact: if a person has had too much to drink STAY OUT OF A CAR whether it is running or not. That's what it came down to when we had to decide. He was drunk. But out of the car, he would have been okay.
I went home after the jury was dismissed. I sat down in the chair and felt weak knowing that on June 12th, the judge was going to pronounce sentence. Whatever that was going to be.
I have often said that I would like to be called to actually sit on a jury. But I found out I didn't like it so much. And now I hope that when my number comes up again, I get sent home before it ever gets started.
Courtroom drama ain't as glamorous as it is on the screen.
PS I also called the crew desk to let them know I was available for assignment the following day--the third in my original block of days. On hold FOREVER listening to Rhapsody in Blue until I gave up and started again in the morning at 6 am after my walk. Still no response. So, I called and left a message for my supervisor: I had done everything the "case" said I was supposed to. But since I couldn't get hold of the crew desk, and I had been cleared for five days, I was just going to go about my business. Never heard from them, but got paid for three days equivalent on my pay record.
THE END
Sunday, June 23, 2019
IN COMPARISON....
Louis woke me up with a gentle nudge to the shoulder last Wednesday, June 19th. "I thought you had to be up at 1:30 a.m. to get ready for work."
Confused and with a pounding heart--thinking that I had screwed up somehow--I rolled over and looked at my clock. The red numbers showed 1:35.
"I do," I said. "But I wasn't going to get up until MY clock rang at 1:45 a.m. I've still got 10 minutes to sleep."
(My clock is fast. Still in that mode of trying to trick myself into thinking I am not REALLY getting up so early.... That's a left-over from corporate America when I got up at 3:40 a.m. every day, but my clock said 4:00. Just couldn't bring myself to see a three on the dial when I had to pull myself out of bed after only four hours sleep most nights.)
"Well then, go back to sleep," Louis suggested.
"Right! I'll never go back to sleep. I might as well get up now."
So, I did. Tired. Tired. Tired. Because my work month is all two-day trips with O'dark hundred check-ins at DIA and at my layover airports. That means getting up every morning no matter where I am at 1:30. No wonder I was tired.
I was still tired driving to work. But there was plenty of quiet time to reflect about June 19th in 1971 when Brice was born and June 19th in 1975 when Burgandy was born. Those were good memories, now void of all the pain and agony to get those babies here.
Then I began thinking about what a long day I had ahead of me with packed planes and crappy weather everywhere. And I felt tired all over again.
Sure enough, as soon as I emerged from the elevator at DIA which accesses our Domicile on the 4th floor, it was like a people bomb had gone off. At 3:45 a.m.! So many travelers I could hardly navigate the concourse. And our aircraft was indeed stuffed to the gills with passengers, their blankets, full-sized pillows, carry on bags, and food sacks wafting aromas of breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
We landed pretty much on schedule. But after herding nearly 200 sleepy people off the plane, it didn't leave much time for us to hurry to the opposite side of Houston Intercontinental Airport for our next flight.
We got to the gate--C43. Oops! There had been a gate change to C41. Only at IAH the numbers don't run consecutively down the concourse. C41 was back down the way we came, turn to the right and boogie past a gauntlet of brand new restaurants which they have built right in the middle of the walkways to a section that went from C29-C42. Barely made it to the gate in time for our check-in. My feet were hurting...left-over bruises and blisters from my run through Vancouver Airport the week before and another loooong jaunt through IAH a couple of days before from the end of the E gates at 18 where we landed from Portland to C2 so we could go to Denver.
Got everyone on board our flight to Sacramento. Armed the doors. Did the live safety demo. Strapped ourselves into the jump seat and assumed the brace position for our take off.
We were zooming down the runway at full speed when all of a sudden the plane began to shudder and swerve from one side to the other. It wasn't like anything I had experienced before. My flying partner and I glanced at each other and voiced our concern that something had gone wrong.
Right then the captain announced, "Remain seated! Remain seated!" That is the first part of the drill we use when the plane has to be evacuated. The next second the pilot is supposed to say, "Release seat belts and get out! Release seat belts and get out!"
Thankfully, THAT command never had to be announced. The plane slowly came to a stop without having swerved off the runway. The captain announced we were okay, but we were going to have to go back to the gate and probably would have to continue on another aircraft.
We were supposed to arrive in Sacramento just about noon. THAT didn't happen! By the time operations found another aircraft with exactly the same configuration to accommodate a seat for each passenger, our arrival time hovered around 5 p.m. Dense clouds and rain shower activity along the way made for a very turbulent ride. It was another flight path that zig-zagged across the country as nearly all the flight paths in the last two weeks have been. We bounced around the cabin like a couple of "bb's in a boxcar." Once again.
What was supposed to be a fairly decent layover in Sacramento, with time to sleep before my perpetually early alarm started ringing, actually turned out to be about the same five hours as every other night. I was still tired!
Early arrival at DIA the next morning at the C gates (which we are using while some of the B gates are being redone). Rushed over to B14 only to find that our 10:20 a.m. departure to Philadelphia had an ATC delay. It had been postponed because of bad weather between Denver and Philly. So, United drafted our First Officer for another flight. Then when a replacement came, we were still on the ground so they drafted the SECOND one for another flight. We finally got the THIRD First Officer about the time the ATC delay had been lifted. At last we began the boarding process. And that was when a huge clap of thunder followed by lightning which illuminated the the dark, dark sky.
Now it was Ground Stop in Denver as they closed DIA for safety.
We waited again.
Seven hours after our original arrival time, we finally landed in Philadelphia. The crew desk had a message for us--REASSIGNMENT! Instead of getting to go home to Denver in the morning and "get out of school early" at 8:29 a.m., we were to work a flight from Philadelphia to Chicago which had been delayed 16 hours because of the weather. But....they said we could dead head home once we got to Chicago and be in Denver mid-afternoon. Still not a whole day, but SOME day left.
UH OH! One of the carts was missing from the AFT galley, and one cart and a carrier box was missing from the FWD galley. WHY? FAA mandate is that either ALL carts are loaded--or NO carts. Can't be one or more missing. That affects weight AND balance. So, we waited. And waited. And waited some more with people who had been there overnight--NOT of their choosing--and were really frothing at the mouth while we waited for the catering company to bring the necessary carts so we could leave for Chicago.
Guess what! We got to Chicago just as our dead head flight was leaving for Denver. What a shocker! With everything else that had happened, that was no surprise.
Then began the dickering with the Crew Desk.
"Our flight to Denver just left. Can you book us for the next flight?"
"Your plane landed at 11:15 a.m. and you missed it. You'll have to deviate on your own."
"No we didn't land at 11:15! We landed at 12:57 p.m. It says right here on our hand-held devices!"
"Well, you either have to deviate (meaning you have to use your company seniority with NO company protection as a working crew member--in other words you're on your own!) or you can have a dead head seat on flight 407 at 7 p.m."
Thanks a lot! The purser hung up.
We went to the gate for the 2:20 p.m. flight. We actually had boarding passes for THAT one--though the gate agent said our crew desk had cancelled them, so to talk to our crew desk. NOT! We just had with NO help. We stood our ground. We were numbers 11 and 12 for four seats available. But, we knew never walk away until the plane actually pushes back from the gate. You never know but what some miraculous thing will happen and you will get a seat.
And, the standby list went down one by one. The two of us got on at the last minute before it was time to close the door, with a shrimpy little couple right on my heels. They were older with a shrimpy little dog in a carrier. The gate agent was explaining to them that there were NOT two seats together. I got the heck onto the plane, asked some guy to help me with my suitcase as I need an empty plane to put my own bag up because it is so heavy and awkward, and sat down by the window in row 23. The rest of my stuff I pushed under the seat as they shut the door to the aircraft. I was asleep before the FA's doing the demo had returned to their jump seats.
Next thing I knew, the captain said we would be landing in about 12 minutes and it was time to prepare the cabin for arrival. We were home! Several hours later, but home. Home. Home.
Okay. Tough three days. Not pleasant in any sense of the word. The turbulence was disconcerting. The delays were horrific. The layovers were barely long enough to slip under the covers before having to get up and start all over again.
But...would I trade those nasty days for what I went through on June 19, 1971, and June 19, 1975, to get Brice and Burgandy here for their turn on earth? Not on your life.
Confused and with a pounding heart--thinking that I had screwed up somehow--I rolled over and looked at my clock. The red numbers showed 1:35.
"I do," I said. "But I wasn't going to get up until MY clock rang at 1:45 a.m. I've still got 10 minutes to sleep."
(My clock is fast. Still in that mode of trying to trick myself into thinking I am not REALLY getting up so early.... That's a left-over from corporate America when I got up at 3:40 a.m. every day, but my clock said 4:00. Just couldn't bring myself to see a three on the dial when I had to pull myself out of bed after only four hours sleep most nights.)
"Well then, go back to sleep," Louis suggested.
"Right! I'll never go back to sleep. I might as well get up now."
So, I did. Tired. Tired. Tired. Because my work month is all two-day trips with O'dark hundred check-ins at DIA and at my layover airports. That means getting up every morning no matter where I am at 1:30. No wonder I was tired.
I was still tired driving to work. But there was plenty of quiet time to reflect about June 19th in 1971 when Brice was born and June 19th in 1975 when Burgandy was born. Those were good memories, now void of all the pain and agony to get those babies here.
Then I began thinking about what a long day I had ahead of me with packed planes and crappy weather everywhere. And I felt tired all over again.
Sure enough, as soon as I emerged from the elevator at DIA which accesses our Domicile on the 4th floor, it was like a people bomb had gone off. At 3:45 a.m.! So many travelers I could hardly navigate the concourse. And our aircraft was indeed stuffed to the gills with passengers, their blankets, full-sized pillows, carry on bags, and food sacks wafting aromas of breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
We landed pretty much on schedule. But after herding nearly 200 sleepy people off the plane, it didn't leave much time for us to hurry to the opposite side of Houston Intercontinental Airport for our next flight.
We got to the gate--C43. Oops! There had been a gate change to C41. Only at IAH the numbers don't run consecutively down the concourse. C41 was back down the way we came, turn to the right and boogie past a gauntlet of brand new restaurants which they have built right in the middle of the walkways to a section that went from C29-C42. Barely made it to the gate in time for our check-in. My feet were hurting...left-over bruises and blisters from my run through Vancouver Airport the week before and another loooong jaunt through IAH a couple of days before from the end of the E gates at 18 where we landed from Portland to C2 so we could go to Denver.
Got everyone on board our flight to Sacramento. Armed the doors. Did the live safety demo. Strapped ourselves into the jump seat and assumed the brace position for our take off.
We were zooming down the runway at full speed when all of a sudden the plane began to shudder and swerve from one side to the other. It wasn't like anything I had experienced before. My flying partner and I glanced at each other and voiced our concern that something had gone wrong.
Right then the captain announced, "Remain seated! Remain seated!" That is the first part of the drill we use when the plane has to be evacuated. The next second the pilot is supposed to say, "Release seat belts and get out! Release seat belts and get out!"
Thankfully, THAT command never had to be announced. The plane slowly came to a stop without having swerved off the runway. The captain announced we were okay, but we were going to have to go back to the gate and probably would have to continue on another aircraft.
We were supposed to arrive in Sacramento just about noon. THAT didn't happen! By the time operations found another aircraft with exactly the same configuration to accommodate a seat for each passenger, our arrival time hovered around 5 p.m. Dense clouds and rain shower activity along the way made for a very turbulent ride. It was another flight path that zig-zagged across the country as nearly all the flight paths in the last two weeks have been. We bounced around the cabin like a couple of "bb's in a boxcar." Once again.
What was supposed to be a fairly decent layover in Sacramento, with time to sleep before my perpetually early alarm started ringing, actually turned out to be about the same five hours as every other night. I was still tired!
Early arrival at DIA the next morning at the C gates (which we are using while some of the B gates are being redone). Rushed over to B14 only to find that our 10:20 a.m. departure to Philadelphia had an ATC delay. It had been postponed because of bad weather between Denver and Philly. So, United drafted our First Officer for another flight. Then when a replacement came, we were still on the ground so they drafted the SECOND one for another flight. We finally got the THIRD First Officer about the time the ATC delay had been lifted. At last we began the boarding process. And that was when a huge clap of thunder followed by lightning which illuminated the the dark, dark sky.
Now it was Ground Stop in Denver as they closed DIA for safety.
We waited again.
Seven hours after our original arrival time, we finally landed in Philadelphia. The crew desk had a message for us--REASSIGNMENT! Instead of getting to go home to Denver in the morning and "get out of school early" at 8:29 a.m., we were to work a flight from Philadelphia to Chicago which had been delayed 16 hours because of the weather. But....they said we could dead head home once we got to Chicago and be in Denver mid-afternoon. Still not a whole day, but SOME day left.
UH OH! One of the carts was missing from the AFT galley, and one cart and a carrier box was missing from the FWD galley. WHY? FAA mandate is that either ALL carts are loaded--or NO carts. Can't be one or more missing. That affects weight AND balance. So, we waited. And waited. And waited some more with people who had been there overnight--NOT of their choosing--and were really frothing at the mouth while we waited for the catering company to bring the necessary carts so we could leave for Chicago.
Guess what! We got to Chicago just as our dead head flight was leaving for Denver. What a shocker! With everything else that had happened, that was no surprise.
Then began the dickering with the Crew Desk.
"Our flight to Denver just left. Can you book us for the next flight?"
"Your plane landed at 11:15 a.m. and you missed it. You'll have to deviate on your own."
"No we didn't land at 11:15! We landed at 12:57 p.m. It says right here on our hand-held devices!"
"Well, you either have to deviate (meaning you have to use your company seniority with NO company protection as a working crew member--in other words you're on your own!) or you can have a dead head seat on flight 407 at 7 p.m."
Thanks a lot! The purser hung up.
We went to the gate for the 2:20 p.m. flight. We actually had boarding passes for THAT one--though the gate agent said our crew desk had cancelled them, so to talk to our crew desk. NOT! We just had with NO help. We stood our ground. We were numbers 11 and 12 for four seats available. But, we knew never walk away until the plane actually pushes back from the gate. You never know but what some miraculous thing will happen and you will get a seat.
And, the standby list went down one by one. The two of us got on at the last minute before it was time to close the door, with a shrimpy little couple right on my heels. They were older with a shrimpy little dog in a carrier. The gate agent was explaining to them that there were NOT two seats together. I got the heck onto the plane, asked some guy to help me with my suitcase as I need an empty plane to put my own bag up because it is so heavy and awkward, and sat down by the window in row 23. The rest of my stuff I pushed under the seat as they shut the door to the aircraft. I was asleep before the FA's doing the demo had returned to their jump seats.
Next thing I knew, the captain said we would be landing in about 12 minutes and it was time to prepare the cabin for arrival. We were home! Several hours later, but home. Home. Home.
Okay. Tough three days. Not pleasant in any sense of the word. The turbulence was disconcerting. The delays were horrific. The layovers were barely long enough to slip under the covers before having to get up and start all over again.
But...would I trade those nasty days for what I went through on June 19, 1971, and June 19, 1975, to get Brice and Burgandy here for their turn on earth? Not on your life.
So....in comparison, my ID 1099 was a walk in the park! Happy birthday, Brice and Burgandy!
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
WEDDING PARTY..
I was three and a half years old in June of 1949. My sister Marie was engaged to be married to Keith Eyre and had chosen the "new" Idaho Falls Temple for their wedding on June 17, 1949. I suppose like most every young woman, she wanted to be married in the latest, greatest temple.
The Idaho Falls Temple was the tenth constructed and eighth operating temple of the Church, and the first temple built with a modern single-spire design. It was announced on March 3, 1937, and the exterior of the temple was completed in September 1941. The interior was expected to be completed the following year. However, with the shortages of materials and work force brought on by the United States' entry into World War II, the temple completion was delayed for four more years. President George Albert Smith finally dedicated the Idaho Falls Temple September 23, 1945, just one month after the war ended. The Bern Switzerland Temple wasn't dedicated until 1955, so the Idaho Falls Temple was "new" for quite a long time.
Marie was only 17, going to turn 18 in September. Petite five foot two with large brown eyes, she looked like a little girl, even to me, when she stood next to twenty-two year old Keith who was a slender six foot four.
Though I was a pretty small kid, I have very vivid recollections of Marie's wedding. We drove from Rawlins to Idaho Falls in our 1940's something Ford. I assume it was my parents, me--and Marie. Did Marcia and Glenda go to the wedding in Idaho, too? If so, they had to have been in the car with us that memorable trip. Keith went up separately. With his parents? Alone? Don't know except that he had his car there so they could honeymoon at Yellowstone and the Black Hills after they were married.
On the way over land that my dad was very familiar with from his sheep herding days, we drove to Alpine and then near the Gray's River which straddles the border between Idaho and Wyoming. There must have been some rainstorm activity in the area--probably a lot, as the Gray's River overflowed its banks--and we were unable to continue our journey because of flooding.
It was June in the upper altitudes of Wyoming, and I don't imagine it was a balmy night. Besides, cars then didn't come equipped with heaters so we probably huddled together under some blankets. We always had one with us in the car--hence the term "car blanket". But ours were probably an old quilt or two which were no longer serviceable for the bed.
I remember it was cramped in the car, no stretching out. Though as a little kid I more than likely didn't have as bad an overnight experience as the others did as far as sleep was concerned. The big discomfort for me was having to use a tin can when we had to go to the bathroom. That was gross!
Did it rain all night? Was the road washed out? Don't know. But I do know I wasn't afraid. My dad was there. Uncomfortable as this disruption was to our plans, I knew all would be well.
And it was. When morning arrived so did the forest rangers. They came checking the area to assist any people stranded out in the wilderness and unable to continue their trip because of damage to the road. And here is the best part--they took us to the Ranger Station and fed us breakfast! No wonder I love pancakes! Don't have a clue what it took to get us on the move again. I didn't have to worry about anything like that.
So my next memory was being at the Idaho Falls Temple for Marie and Keith's wedding.
I was dressed in my Sunday best with a matching teal blue coat for the occasion. While the grownups were in the temple for all of the sacred ceremonies before the Sealing at noon, I was ensconced in the Nursery. That would never happen today for kids just along with the bridal party and not part OF the party there for the special uniting of a new family.
Most photographs then were black and white, but the photographic memories of Marie's wedding were in colorful Kodak snapshots. Apparently, I had broken free of whomever was in charge of me because I was standing with the bride and groom and both sets of parents with the temple in the background in the official Wedding Photograph after the temple ceremony on the beautifully manicured expanse of a lawn, where we eventually joined the rest of the family and guests for pictures and congratulations all around.
It is clear from reading newspaper articles in family history books that there was a wedding reception in Rawlins the following week, but I don't remember a thing about that. The society page article in the Rawlins Daily Times dated Tuesday June 21, 1949, revealed that Marie was wearing a white slipper satin bridal gown fashioned with long sleeves and accented by a wide bertha with a marquisette yoke (WHATEVER THAT WAS!). The gown was completed with a shoulder length veil. AND...that the bride's traveling costume was an aqua colored suit with white accessories and a white carnation corsage.
This occasion was a standout for me on many different levels. So, as I thought about the date when I got up yesterday morning, the 17th of June registered with this great experience of my young life.
Seventy years! Doesn't seem like it is that long of a time ago.....yet it is practically my whole lifetime.
The Idaho Falls Temple was the tenth constructed and eighth operating temple of the Church, and the first temple built with a modern single-spire design. It was announced on March 3, 1937, and the exterior of the temple was completed in September 1941. The interior was expected to be completed the following year. However, with the shortages of materials and work force brought on by the United States' entry into World War II, the temple completion was delayed for four more years. President George Albert Smith finally dedicated the Idaho Falls Temple September 23, 1945, just one month after the war ended. The Bern Switzerland Temple wasn't dedicated until 1955, so the Idaho Falls Temple was "new" for quite a long time.
Marie was only 17, going to turn 18 in September. Petite five foot two with large brown eyes, she looked like a little girl, even to me, when she stood next to twenty-two year old Keith who was a slender six foot four.
Though I was a pretty small kid, I have very vivid recollections of Marie's wedding. We drove from Rawlins to Idaho Falls in our 1940's something Ford. I assume it was my parents, me--and Marie. Did Marcia and Glenda go to the wedding in Idaho, too? If so, they had to have been in the car with us that memorable trip. Keith went up separately. With his parents? Alone? Don't know except that he had his car there so they could honeymoon at Yellowstone and the Black Hills after they were married.
On the way over land that my dad was very familiar with from his sheep herding days, we drove to Alpine and then near the Gray's River which straddles the border between Idaho and Wyoming. There must have been some rainstorm activity in the area--probably a lot, as the Gray's River overflowed its banks--and we were unable to continue our journey because of flooding.
It was June in the upper altitudes of Wyoming, and I don't imagine it was a balmy night. Besides, cars then didn't come equipped with heaters so we probably huddled together under some blankets. We always had one with us in the car--hence the term "car blanket". But ours were probably an old quilt or two which were no longer serviceable for the bed.
I remember it was cramped in the car, no stretching out. Though as a little kid I more than likely didn't have as bad an overnight experience as the others did as far as sleep was concerned. The big discomfort for me was having to use a tin can when we had to go to the bathroom. That was gross!
Did it rain all night? Was the road washed out? Don't know. But I do know I wasn't afraid. My dad was there. Uncomfortable as this disruption was to our plans, I knew all would be well.
And it was. When morning arrived so did the forest rangers. They came checking the area to assist any people stranded out in the wilderness and unable to continue their trip because of damage to the road. And here is the best part--they took us to the Ranger Station and fed us breakfast! No wonder I love pancakes! Don't have a clue what it took to get us on the move again. I didn't have to worry about anything like that.
So my next memory was being at the Idaho Falls Temple for Marie and Keith's wedding.
I was dressed in my Sunday best with a matching teal blue coat for the occasion. While the grownups were in the temple for all of the sacred ceremonies before the Sealing at noon, I was ensconced in the Nursery. That would never happen today for kids just along with the bridal party and not part OF the party there for the special uniting of a new family.
Most photographs then were black and white, but the photographic memories of Marie's wedding were in colorful Kodak snapshots. Apparently, I had broken free of whomever was in charge of me because I was standing with the bride and groom and both sets of parents with the temple in the background in the official Wedding Photograph after the temple ceremony on the beautifully manicured expanse of a lawn, where we eventually joined the rest of the family and guests for pictures and congratulations all around.
It is clear from reading newspaper articles in family history books that there was a wedding reception in Rawlins the following week, but I don't remember a thing about that. The society page article in the Rawlins Daily Times dated Tuesday June 21, 1949, revealed that Marie was wearing a white slipper satin bridal gown fashioned with long sleeves and accented by a wide bertha with a marquisette yoke (WHATEVER THAT WAS!). The gown was completed with a shoulder length veil. AND...that the bride's traveling costume was an aqua colored suit with white accessories and a white carnation corsage.
This occasion was a standout for me on many different levels. So, as I thought about the date when I got up yesterday morning, the 17th of June registered with this great experience of my young life.
Seventy years! Doesn't seem like it is that long of a time ago.....yet it is practically my whole lifetime.
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