“Ma, it was seven o’clock when we took off, and that was forty minutes ago.” I replied with a finger pointing at my watch. She knew it would be a two-and-half-hour flight.
She looked at me, then the window, then was quiet for a while.
Twenty minutes later, she saw lights again: “That must be San Francisco.”
This is going to be a very long flight, I thought to myself, and it will be the first and last time I am ever going to fly with her.
It was worse than traveling with a kid. At least you could tell the kid to be quiet.
I was a little tired. The day started early, since I woke up at five and couldn’t sleep anymore. There were still a lot to do before we had to leave.
I made five or six garbage runs. Mom’s friends were going to take everything away after we were gone, but I felt bad leaving too much junk, so I wanted to do the best I could to reduce their work.
It didn’t help with mom telling me, as usual, to take a break. I think she said that to make herself feel better, not knowing or caring who was going to finish all the work.
Then I had to cook for her friends who were kind enough to stop by. I cooked the traditional dumplings which, according to mom, was the thing to eat when leaving for a long journey. Thank goodness for frozen food.
It started to snow amid all the actions. I ran to the patio yelling snow, snow!
I was the only one who was so excited. They were probably all sick of the wintry scene.
We had the first unpleasant surprise when we arrived at the airport. The flight was delayed for two hours.
I didn’t buy their reason--weather. I’m from California, okay? We don’t have bad weather there. Find another excuse for your inefficiency.
We did the duty-free shopping. We had coffee. We did the restroom runs. Twice. We had some food. I pushed her wheelchair all over the place. The airline clerk was nowhere to be found, so I decided I didn’t need her. I am my mother’s keeper now.
After we finally sat down in our seats on the plane, but not before we had this near miss roller coaster slide down the tunnel, I heard the flight attendant telling a passenger it was bad weather that caused the long delay.
So much for the great California weather.
Three or four times of proclaiming we were over San Francisco later, mom finally got her wish. We were over the city, only we couldn’t land. There was a thing called air traffic jam and we were in it.
We circled twenty more minutes in the air. Mom complained that the pilot drove too slowly.
To top things off, the traffic on the ground was worse than that in the air. We probably waited half an hour for our ride to drive the two-minute distance from the cell phone area.
It was almost midnight when we reached home. A simple two-hour flight turned into an eleven-hour ordeal.
My little house had never looked nicer, and the licks from my little Yorkie had never felt sweeter before.
(Happy Thanksgiving everyone!)