Cross Country II
The die is cast. These days, one doesn't make firm decisions by crossing Rubicons, but by purchasing airline tickets. We have the outbound itinerary set. Next, we decide which car to take, after Nissan's finest give us the diagnostic results. Emily, and our insurance carrier, lean toward bringing her purple '95 to California. I found out from the latter that we could make my '98 the "Out-of-State garaged" car for a $209 per year surcharge. When I pointed out that the shift would be for three months, after which I'd reverse the arrangement and claim my refund, the phone call grew much chillier.
After getting insider tips from a pilot friend, we threw over half his advice and will probably pay for it. It turns out Em's destination is home to one of LA's feeder airports, and my wife opted to fly from there.
"Fly one of these," he said. At least we chose an airline from his list.
"Try to get a non-stop. If not, get a one stop." Ahem, we have a two-stop, and unfortunately the two stops are LAX and ORD. I figure with a Friday departure we ought to make Boston the next Tuesday.
What's nearly as interesting is my first insight into Em's thoughts on returning, which make me envious. Whichever of a number of competing plans winds out, she expects to spend a couple of weeks on the trip. After initial qualms, I had one of those letting go moments. You can't enfold a 23-year-old the way you could a 3-year old, and you shouldn't.
It's helpful to recall what you were doing at that age. I was in the Navy. My wife was living alone in a third-floor walkup in the Fenway. There were the stoned to walk over going to work, the muggers to dodge, and a building super who strangely resembled Charles Manson. A cross-country trip looks like a fairly stable venture by comparison.
It's a venture I'd rather aid than control.
After getting insider tips from a pilot friend, we threw over half his advice and will probably pay for it. It turns out Em's destination is home to one of LA's feeder airports, and my wife opted to fly from there.
"Fly one of these," he said. At least we chose an airline from his list.
"Try to get a non-stop. If not, get a one stop." Ahem, we have a two-stop, and unfortunately the two stops are LAX and ORD. I figure with a Friday departure we ought to make Boston the next Tuesday.
What's nearly as interesting is my first insight into Em's thoughts on returning, which make me envious. Whichever of a number of competing plans winds out, she expects to spend a couple of weeks on the trip. After initial qualms, I had one of those letting go moments. You can't enfold a 23-year-old the way you could a 3-year old, and you shouldn't.
It's helpful to recall what you were doing at that age. I was in the Navy. My wife was living alone in a third-floor walkup in the Fenway. There were the stoned to walk over going to work, the muggers to dodge, and a building super who strangely resembled Charles Manson. A cross-country trip looks like a fairly stable venture by comparison.
It's a venture I'd rather aid than control.
posted by Uncle | 02:54
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home