The Return To America

One month has passed since the heroic(?), epic(?) journey to Germany
from America. Today was the first leg in the chaotic(?), clandestine(?)
soul-less sub-human return to America. Read between the lines here, I am
not home yet, in fact, I have not even crossed the big pond yet.

I can really blame this one on Ole Hoffmann. He called it this morning,
telling me that he sensed that I would be having some trouble with my
flight. Did he in fact sic his Santeria gods upon me?

He did bring it up in context. As usual, I was a little behind schedule
this morning. We planned on leaving the house at 10 am, but I was not
ready. I still needed to burn cd's of photos to leave with Ole and gang.
I also did not have room in my travel bag for everything I was carrying.
Since I arrived, I bought 2 pairs of shoes, one set of loafers at the
flea market for €3, and one set of fake Birkenstock's. Part of the new
cargo is little presents for everyone on the Great list, more to follow
in that later. And every good beer drinker needs to fill the luggage
with rare cool beers from far away places. This trip would be Berliner
Kindl Weise, a sour beer only available in Berlin. This beer is the
archetype of the Berlin Weise category in the BJCP. I HAD to bring a
case back with me.

So we are late in leaving the house, getting on the road at about 10:30,
not bad for me. The taxi was on it's way, we were fine... or were we?
Once we were on the road, traffic seamed to be crawling. In fact traffic
WAS crawling. We exchanged worried glances, but kept our cool, and
watched to see what would happen.

Then he said it. 'You know Wilbur, I have a bad feeling about this
flight of yours, I think you will have some trouble. Maybe you are
staying in Berlin tonight after all." That was it, he jinxed my flight
from the start.

We arrived at the gate at 11:10 am, checking in for a 12:10 flight. In
Minneapolis, this would be a sure-fire disaster. There is no way to
negotiate the airport and NSA security and make a flight in one hour.
You must be at the gate 30 minutes before departure. Tegel Airport in
Berlin is different, the security gate is behind the luggage check-in.
No traversing the airport to find your gate after NSA bull. Sure, there
is the super thorough xray and security check, and they did a great job!

Ole saw me off at the gate, and we both thought I was home-free. Our
fears were exaggerated, and I was on my way. Rather than boarding
directly, we took a bus to the plane, parked remotely on the tarmac.
This flight was the KLM city hopper service running on Fokker 100 jets,
too small for the standard terminals gangways. We taxied out and were in
Amsterdam at Schiphol Airport at 2:00 pm.

Now comes the first wait. My flight for Detroit leaves at 3:30 pm, so
what to do? The Rijks Museum at Schiphol! The featured exhibit was the
Maritime Powers, a collection of paintings by Willem van de Velde Sr and
Jr. What a nice distraction from the monotonous boredom of watching
inane travelers. The information cards were even in Dutch and English!

Now it' time to get on the plane. The gate number is E9, which turns out
to be some Inter-Atlantic super-gate. There are at least 4 security
stations for interviewing people boarding the planes. Flight are
scheduled about 1 hour apart, and the gate serves more than one aircraft
at a time. We are flying a Boeing 747-800, so there are about 400 people
to check in.

Here comes the screwy security snafu. Northworst does not allow ANY
liquids on their flights, a change from when I came over 4 weeks ago. In
fact Northworst is the only airline enforcing a no liquids rule. So in
line to check-in, the polite security droid girl must tell lots of
passengers with duty-free liquor that they are not allowed to take their
tax-free booty. IF you bought it at Schiphol Duty-Free, that was OK, but
if you bought it in some other airport, you were screwed! Man, were
people pissed!

In addition to Duty-Free, people who had brought on toothpaste, hand
lotion, hand sanitizer, lip balm, etc, were told they could not bring it
on. Even travelers that had already cleared a security checkpoint at
another airport on a previous leg were not told they could not bring
these terrorist oriented liquids inboard. This was really sick, people
were just fuming!

I forgot the best part, the line to get to Inter-Atlantic super-gate E9
was about a block long, and it never went down! They were boarding
flight after flight at this gate, so the rush was never over. I got in
line at 2:50, and thought I would not make my flight. Wrong. Do you know
how long to takes to get 400+ people into a 747? Longer that 30 minutes.

People just kept coming. There were a lot of kids too, more than seemed
like a good comfortable amount for a 9 hour trans-Atlantic flight.

3:30 - still boarding.

3:45 - still boarding.

4:00 - There seems to be some trouble. Seems to be mechanical problems.
The attendant lets us know that they are getting close, but there is
some mechanical issue, and we will be ready shortly.

4:20 - Captains turn. There seems to be a bad computer that controls the
waste system for half of the lavatories onboard. They are looking for a
replacement computer, and will replace it before we leave. At least
another 30 minutes before we can be clear to leave.

5:00 - Mechanics are on the plane, there is a lot of activity.

5:10 - Some ground crew chief comes on and explains that the computer
was not the problem. There is still a problem with half of the
lavatories onboard. 400+ people would have to use 50% less bathrooms for
9 hours. This seems to be a BAD idea. We are now waiting for sign-off to
leave.

5:30 - Sign-off is not received. We are in contact with Detroit to see
what should happen. The captain comes on and announces that either we
will go and people missing connections in Detroit are staying in
Detroit, or everyone is staying in Amsterdam for the night. We won't
know for at least 30 minutes, so we are allowed to get off the plane,
but not leave the Inter-Atlantic super-gate area of E9. This is bad.

6:00 - With considerable regret in his voice, the ground chief announces
that we are staying in Amsterdam for the night. Welcome to the Netherlands.

We need rooms for 400 people. Where do we all go? They ground chief
tells us to proceed to Arrival Gate 3 for our overnight packets and
hotel vouchers. Where IS arrival gate 3? We all start out and cross the
airport and a bunch of us leave the baggage area. We find the Arrival
Gate 3, but we are supposed to be INSIDE the security area. Now we much
back-track across the airport and re-enter the security area via the
Gate 16, the Unclaimed Check-bag entrance. We finally arrive at arrival
services, after crossing the entire baggage claim area 3 times, once
across inside, once back outside, and once again inside.

Are you bored, it's not over yet!

We all get our vouchers and reservations. My hotel is the Van De Valk
Hotel Schiphol A4. At this point it's important to really analyze this
hotel name. Van De Valk - Van De means royalty, so this place is owned
by some rich dude. Hotel Schiphol A4 - It's a hotel, and it's near the
airport on the A4 highway. This is a giant dormitory for travelers that
miss their flights a Schiphol. I bet they don't even have regular rates,
this place is the faceless soul-less machine of handling travelers
stranded in strange airports because of computer malfunctions of waste
handling systems.

At check-in you get a room, dinner, breakfast, and 5 minutes of long
distance. Everything else is extra. The rooms have a ambiance of
sterileness and insanity. It really makes you want to go home.

Tonight I sleep. Tomorrow at 6 am we are back on the bus to Schiphol to
try again to make the trans-Atlantic crossing.

Keep you fingers crossed...

The flight to Berlin was

The Return To America

One month has passed since the heroic(?), epic(?) journey to Germany
from America. Today was the first leg in the chaotic(?), clandestine(?)
soul-less sub-human return to America. Read between the lines here, I am
not home yet, in fact, I have not even crossed the big pond yet.

I can really blame this one on Ole Hoffmann. He called it this morning,
telling me that he sensed that I would be having some trouble with my
flight. Did he in fact sic his Santeria gods upon me?

He did bring it up in context. As usual, I was a little behind schedule
this morning. We planned on leaving the house at 10 am, but I was not
ready. I still needed to burn cd's of photos to leave with Ole and gang.
I also did not have room in my travel bag for everything I was carrying.
Since I arrived, I bought 2 pairs of shoes, one set of loafers at the
flea market for €3, and one set of fake Birkenstock's. Part of the new
cargo is little presents for everyone on the Great list, more to follow
in that later. And every good beer drinker needs to fill the luggage
with rare cool beers from far away places. This trip would be Berliner
Kindl Weise, a sour beer only available in Berlin. This beer is the
archetype of the Berlin Weise category in the BJCP. I HAD to bring a
case back with me.

So we are late in leaving the house, getting on the road at about 10:30,
not bad for me. The taxi was on it's way, we were fine... or were we?
Once we were on the road, traffic seamed to be crawling. In fact traffic
WAS crawling. We exchanged worried glances, but kept our cool, and
watched to see what would happen.

Then he said it. 'You know Wilbur, I have a bad feeling about this
flight of yours, I think you will have some trouble. Maybe you are
staying in Berlin tonight after all." That was it, he jinxed my flight
from the start.

We arrived at the gate at 11:10 am, checking in for a 12:10 flight. In
Minneapolis, this would be a sure-fire disaster. There is no way to
negotiate the airport and NSA security and make a flight in one hour.
You must be at the gate 30 minutes before departure. Tegel Airport in
Berlin is different, the security gate is behind the luggage check-in.
No traversing the airport to find your gate after NSA bull. Sure, there
is the super thorough xray and security check, and they did a great job!

Ole saw me off at the gate, and we both thought I was home-free. Our
fears were exaggerated, and I was on my way. Rather than boarding
directly, we took a bus to the plane, parked remotely on the tarmac.
This flight was the KLM city hopper service running on Fokker 100 jets,
too small for the standard terminals gangways. We taxied out and were in
Amsterdam at Schiphol Airport at 2:00 pm.

Now comes the first wait. My flight for Detroit leaves at 3:30 pm, so
what to do? The Rijks Museum at Schiphol! The featured exhibit was the
Maritime Powers, a collection of paintings by Willem van de Velde Sr and
Jr. What a nice distraction from the monotonus boredom of watching inane
travelers. The information cards were even in Dutch and English!

Now it' time to get on the plane. The gate number is E9, which turns out
to be some Inter-Atlantic super-gate. There are at least 4 security
stations for interviewing people boarding the planes. Flight are
scheduled about 1 hour appart, and the gate serves more than one
aircraft at a time. We are flying a Boeing 747-800, so there are about
400 people to check in.

Here comes the screwy security snafu. Northworst does not allow ANY
liquids on their flights, a change from when I came over 4 weeks ago. In
fact Northworst is the only airline enforcing a no liquids rule. So in
line to check-in, the polite security droid girl must tell lots of
passengers with duty-free liquor that they are not allowed to take their
tax-free booty. IF you bought it at Schiphol Duty-Free, that was OK, but
if you bought it in some other airport, you were screwed! Man, were
people pissed!

In addition to Duty-Free, people who had brought on toothpaste, hand
lotion, hand sanitizer, lip balm, etc, were told they could not bring it
on. Even travelers that had already cleared a security checkpoint at
another airport on a previous leg were not told they could not bring
these terrorist oriented liquids onboard. This was really sick, people
were just fuming!

I forgot the best part, the line to get to Inter-Atlantic super-gate E9
was about a block long, and it never went down! They were boarding
flight after flight at this gate, so the rush was never over. I got in
line at 2:50, and thought I would not make my flight. Wrong. Do you know
how long to takes to get 400+ people into a 747? Longer that 30 minutes.

People just kept coming. There were a lot of kids too, more than seemed
like a good comfortable amount for a 9 hour trans-Atlantic flight.

3:30 - still boarding.

3:45 - still boarding.

4:00 - There seems to be some trouble. Seems to be mechanical problems.
The attendant lets us know that they are getting close, but there is
some mechanical issue, and we will be ready shortly.

4:20 - Captains turn. There seems to be a bad computer that controls the
waste system for half of the lavatories onboard. They are looking for a
replacement computer, and will replace it before we leave. At least
another 30 minutes before we can be clear to leave.

5:00 - Mechanics are on the plane, there is a lot of activity.

5:10 - Some ground crew cheif comes on and explains that the computer
was not the problem. There is still a problem with half of the
lavatories onboard. 400+ people would have to use 50% less bathrooms for
9 hours. This seems to be a BAD idea. We are now waiting for sign-off to
leave.

5:30 - Sign-off is not received. We are in contact with Detroit to see
what should happen. The captain comes on and announces that either we
will go and people missing connections in Detroit are staying in
Detroit, or everyone is staying in Amsterdam for the night. We won't
know for at least 30 minutes, so we are allowed to get off the plane,
but not leave the Inter-Atlantic super-gate area of E9. This is bad.

6:00 - With considerable regret in his voice, the ground chief announces
that we are staying in Amsterdam for the night. Welcome to the Netherlands.

We need rooms for 400 people. Where do we all go? They ground chief
tells us to proceed to Arrival Gate 3 for our overnight packets and
hotel vouchers. Where IS arrival gate 3? We all start out and cross the
airport and a bunch of us leave the baggage area. We find the Arrival
Gate 3, but we are supposed to be INSIDE the security area. Now we much
back-track across the airport and re-enter the security area via the
Gate 16, the Unclaimed Check-bag entrance. We finally arrive at arrival
services, after crossing the entire baggage claim area 3 times, once
across inside, once back outside, and once again inside.

Are you bored, it's not over yet!

We all get our vouchers and reservations. My hotel is the Van De Valk
Hotel Schiphol A4. At this point it's important to really analyze this
hotel name. Van De Valk - Van De means royalty, so this place is owned
by some rich dude. Hotel Schiphol A4 - It's a hotel, and it's near the
airport on the A4 highway. This is a giant dormitory for travelers that
miss their flights a Schiphol. I bet they don't even have regular rates,
this place is the faceless soul-less machine of handling travelers
stranded in strange airports because of computer malfunctions of waste
handling systems.

At check-in you get a room, dinner, breakfast, and 5 minutes of long
distance. Everything else is extra. The rooms have a ambience of
sterileness and insanity. It really makes you want to go home.

Tonight I sleep. Tomorrow at 6 am we are back on the bus to Schiphol to
try again to make the trans-Atlantic crossing.

Keep you fingers crossed...

The End

Where does the time go? Wednesday is departure day for me. Another month of my life pissed away.

There's a long list of projects unfinished, some unstarted.

I think I will be able to concentrate when I get home. Maybe not so concentrated, but really back to my life.

It's been a good break, or change, or new course here. Some new perspective into the some question. Who am I?

Armageddon

It was one of those dreams that are created from the outside stimulation. There was a car or house alarm that would not stop along with the church bells ringing. On and on, ringing and buzzing. When I realized, I was a little startled. After a few minutes, I decided that if this was the end, if something really big happened, that Ole would come to the container and tell me so. This calmed me, but then I realized that if this was the end, maybe Ole would not be able to return. Then what.

Somehow, maybe just a moment later, I was asleep again. I don't remember if the bells and the alarm stopped, but now there was a whole new frame of mind. The medulla mind had injected it's basest elements, and I was along for a new ride in the Subconscious Express.

This new landscape was a combination of 1984 and Fight Club. Something was dreadfully wrong, and you could not talk about it. People were dying and being killed by tt, whatever tt was, but that was what I saw written on the notes that flashed by. It was like a snow-plow that would come by, and everyone would scramble to avoid it. I saw it twice, and barely escaped, feeling tazered in the aftermath.

We were in a group of about 8, and everyone decided to split and go it alone. This was not right, and I stood up to everyone saying we only had a chance together. No one agreed, but they all followed.

I went looking for answers, and who should appear? The original one, with her long black curls, big guffaw, and infectious smile, by my side. Back again after more than 15 years separated. For 5 of those years I had dreams with her; conversations, discussions, fights. Sometimes when was awake I was scared because it felt like we had been in contact. I was having a full interaction with her, but only in my dreams. Isn't this the definition of insanity? I never knew how she would appear in those dreams; angry, happy, sad, silent, sorrowful. Sometimes she needed me, but I always needed her.

A few years ago, I thought about contacting the real her. It plagued me for weeks, I got numbers and addresses, found out information. I never picked up that phone or sent the email, and I never stalked out the address. Finally I had to stop the obsession, and just let it go again, back to the dark corners to rest.

That dream today brought it back again. Her. She was skating in the dream, the skater that she is, down a stream as I walked beside her. She was happy to see me, open in a way that I knew she would tell me everything. Open in the way I always wished she would have been. The way that would have answered my questions and let me move on again. Or would it?

Dreams don't lie. She was there, and she knew about tt. And she was willing to talk about it. She pointed down the stream. 'I need to go now, and finish my route. But I will meet you later, over there, under the tree where you are headed.' Of course I agreed, I still hang on the hope of her every word.

The dream went on, it was a story line I had thought up years ago. The story is, there are too many people in the world, and no one knows what to do about it. Then an internet chain letter calls for a cleansing. On an appointed day, everyone is to kill one other person - without reason, choice, or circumstance. Somehow this letter affects everyone, and in the morning, the world is one half the population. At first, this is devastating, some places loose no one, while other towns, countries, regions are demolished, people have lost loved ones. But after some time, this event makes life for everyone better, there is abundance in everything, less pollution, more space, etc. Then there is another letter! People's greed fuels these purgings that create both terror and pleasure.

The dream was actually a little different, since the government was actually executing the killings. That's actually the governments job, executing the will of the people. The horror of the dream is of course based on the fact that half of the people actually supported this government, like the half of the population we have today, supporting an insane greedy American Way.

Then the dream was over. She never came back. Just like reality. She never talked to me. I never knew or understood. She is the phantom of my past that still haunts my relationships and dreams. It has become a pattern in my relationships now. Meeting, dating, committing, and leaving someone without them every really letting me know who they really are. Do I pick them, or are they attracted to me? Do I have to drag it out of them, demanding some submission of their consciousness? Sometimes I think so. Right now I think absolutely. Maybe some nice girl can show me otherwise, but I don't count on that.

Today it was just a dream, but that hole is still there.

The Departure From America

Right now it's noon in Amsterdam. After a few paragraphs, you may realize why some of this will not make sense.

I don't feel as wasted as I usually do, but I know it's coming. Jet Lag from the US to Europe is the tough one. Maybe that's because when you are coming home you have that little extra buzz of getting back to what's normal.

This has been a screwed up little trip. Here's the highlights and lowlights.

Leg one - Minneapolis to Detroit. I'm waiting at the gate, calling mom and dad and wishing them a pre-happy 48th wedding anniversary. There is an announcement at the gate that they have found a crack in the airplane. We are assured that they are having someone take a look at it, and that will be ready to go once the inspection is completed. Are they following procedures here, or are they actually worried that the plan might not be flight-worthy? The old man sitting next to me snickers, and I ask him if the crack is on his side of the plane or mine.

About 10 minutes later, they announce that they have found another plane to make the fight. We are moving from F3 to G15, BINGO! This is just halfway across the airport, about a 10 minute walk. We sit and sit waiting to board the new and improved. Boarding is quick, people are ready to go. There is not an empty seat on the plane.

The crew is uneasy now, and they announce that they have NO food or beverage service on the new stead. The captain announces that we will go without unless someone has strung objections. I waited for a gravity challenged female to start grumbling, it would have been fun to skewer her and serve her as the main course. We taxi away from the concourse about 50 minutes past departure time. Now the plane taxis for 15 minutes, taking the 494 exit east to 94 east and finally lifting off somewhere in Wisconsin.

Let's not forget, I have 2 more flight segments ahead.

The captain announces that we will be touching down the exact minute of the departure of my international flight in Detroit. Uh, right. Houston we have problems. The captain announces that if you have problems with your connecting flight, please present yourself to the stewards to make arrangements. Dutifully I present my ticket to the jittery Dutch speaking attendant, who tells me I will never make that flight. I know that, now what. She tells me to see the desk agent to get reassigned to the later flight to Amsterdam from Detroit! I am saved.

Leg two - Detroit to Amsterdam. The one hour layover flies by, and I make a flurry of last minute calls because I can. It will be one month without phone service here on the continent. My t-mobile phone works here, but it's $0.99 per minute for service. Then again, that's why you take vacation, to get away from the damn phone.

On the earlier flight I had the cat-bird seat. The flight was wide open, and I had a seat in an empty row. Can you say lay down and go to sleep?!? But I'm not on that flight now, and I can't pick my seat using the nifty internet check-in tool on the Northwest website. In fact, I'm lucky to be on the flight, because there are no empty seats on the flight. I'm in 19D, sandwiched between a rosary praying Hispanic guy and a excessively wide Turk. Don't get me wrong, the Turk is not mean, we talk a little and he is very pleasant. The excessively wide thing is not pleasant. These moments also make you realize that I am not small, or medium either. So what do we do about the arm rests?

The flight is really fine, except for the obnoxiousness of the seat-mounted multi-media displays playing NWA commercials. Once the flight started, I did a quick tour, and found the free computer games! Very nice compared to the continuous infomercials of the past. I played Bejeweled for hours! I hope it annoyed the Turk and Hispanic, because their constant chuckling at Something about Mary and I married a Super Heroine bugged the crap out of me!

In final approach, the captain announces that we are about 50 minutes late on arrival. WHAT? Why did we taxi from Detroit to Toronto to take off? It is happening again. Theoretically I had one hour 30 minutes to catch the flight to Berlin. Now it's 45 minutes. We arrive at G55, can there really be 55 gates in one concourse? YES. My flight is leaving from B26, is concourse B exactly opposite of concourse G? YES. Be calm, we can make this flight if we just move quickly. Unless there is a security checkpoint between the gates. There is. I reach B26 at 9:55 for my 10:10 flight. This is a bus gate, , and as I walk up the attendant is walking in the door, and the bus is pulling away from the door. I wave and shout, but she does not turn, just walks toward me and meets me at the desk, telling me I have missed the flight, and directly me to the transfer desk next to the security checkpoint. Not to worry, there is a 3:20 flight. Uggh.

Things pick up. I can use my phone to call Ole and tell him I am delayed before he leaves to pick me up at the airport. With the transfer ticket, I get a meal voucher, a 5 minute phone card, and a €50 voucher on a KLM flight. I still have to deal with a 4 hour layover on full jetlag. The meal voucher gets me a wilted lettuce Mediterranean salad (not mean to be wilted), and a huge kiwi cocktail fruit drink with enough kick to keep me writing this long.

The final kick is that the delay in arriving in Berlin leaves Ole and I in rush-hour traffic to and from the airport. More news about that later. I need to move now, as my eyelids get heavy, and every time I think of what to do, my head screams sleep.

Deer Camp

It's that time of year again, Deer Camp at Uncle John's. We already have 8 deer, not bad for a group of 10! My Cousin Leslie shot her first and second deer ever. I bagged a small 3 point buck on Saturday morning at 8 am.

I brewed a LOT of beer for Deer Camp. We have Big Buck Pale Ale, Wheat Treat, and Teddy's alcopop. The alcopop is a big hit! It's a malt beverage without hops for the cousins that don't like beer. We mix it with powdered drink mix and sugar for a sweet flavored treat. The favorite flavor so far is the fruit punch, but we have grape, orange and cherry to try out too. The lemonade is just not so good.

Sitting on stand for hours at a time is a great place to practice yoga. Deer hunting is so much like yoga. You must be still. You must be aware of sensation (sight, sound, smell). With time and focus, you can become aware of feelings about who you are. The best part, I have 6 more days of this!

New Blog

I added a new blog this week, Greta the Cat, to keep track of little Greta as I am out of town for about 6 weeks. The blog is to organize visitors to come over and keep her company. I think she will do fine. I need to get busy packing!

More Illumination

Today I was out on the front porch with Greta the cat, giving her a change of scenery and me a little break from nothing actually. We were out there and chatting on the phone when Steve drives by and stops in. Lots of talk, and then time to eat something. I'm really not hungry, but I go along anyway, because I am pretty depressed. That deep down depressed that keeps me around the house unable to do anything some days.

We walk down to the Gyro shop and he eats, and I have a soda and fries. We talk and then I realize.

I can't deal with the failure.

I failed - gave it everything I had and came up far short of the mark. I failed miserably. Miserably is the key word here, it was miserable for one year in and now 6 months out.

Failing is something I am not good at. I have little practice and no patience for it. Once you start succeeding, failing happens less and less. So when it does happen, I do not do well with it, I fall off the face of the earth. I guess this is good practice for real life.

For the first few months, the questions and inquiry really dogged me. What happened? Why? What could I have done? blah blah blah. I wanted some answers, more information. I was ready for the truth that I was afraid of and blocked out all along. But I didn't get it, no contact. Nothing to process, realize, understand, question.

Now I'm stuck. The questions and answers aren't so pressing now. What I am left with is the aftermath of the failure.

I don't have any new tricks for the next time around. How do you start again when the best you had was not even close to good enough?