Travelin’ Stories

After Hareega’s post about Southwest Airlines, I was thanking God I would never be passing through AZ on on the Greyhound of the Skies. I have now learned, after one Southwest experience, I am a spoiled international flier and there are reasons why cut-rate airlines are thus described.

We got to Chicago Midway Airport to discover we had not one, but two stops on the way to Reno: Nashville and Phoenix. My first thought was “Great, the kounouz can add another state to their repertoire” (up until our last trip to the US when we took Amtrak across America, they had been to more countries on the world than states the US). My second thought was “Hey, I can wave at Hareega from the tarmac, not even 30,000 ft!” (now that just shows how bizarre blogging is, that people you’ve never met can be the second thought in your head).

All good until we take off and the pilot says: “Good morning, folks! blah…blah…and it is a toasty day at our second destination, Phoenix is blazin’ recording 110 degrees, yup, a hundred and tween.” My heart stops, remembering what Hareega wrote about plane tires shredding on hot landing surfaces. So when we landed, I just kinda grabbed the hands of the closest kinzayn and prayed. Whew, all went well.

I learned that people going to Dallas are different than people going on vacation. On my Dallas flight, we had suits and laptops, all humans totally connected to electronic devises and speaking not another word on the flight. For a people person, that was just TOO weird. I was traveling alone, no kids to care for, and ready for a dose of Americanism; and I spent the whole time reading (well, I did enjoy eavesdropping on the high-powered business lady behind me hitting on a man thirty years her senior) .

BUT, going to Reno, it was a whole different story. Gamblers, hikers, waterskiiers, the whole plane was yacking away about where they had traveled and where they were going. High energy, great fun. The family next to us were US Embassy employees in an African country, so we chatted about the expat experience. The dad’s family had a vacation home in Tahoe, so both our families were going to enjoy history remakes for our kids. Their little girl was so cute, she said: “Goin’ ta Lake Taco!”

Arriving in Reno is always a trip. Getting a glimpse of Lake Tahoe is Slot machines available within twenty feet of the arrival gate. I hate gambling with a passion, and have seen it destroy so many lives and livelihoods. Lil Kinz remarked that some of the ladies in the posters didn’t wear enough clothes .

I was astounded that my favorite bands as a teen-ager were all headlining at the casinos.: Eddie Money, America, Boz Scaggs, Doobie Brothers, Creedance Clearwater Revival, Kansas. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. How they would’ve gagged thirty years ago if you told them they would be playing in casinos now. So sickenly establishment. But then i realized, this is what baby-bloomers (you know, late baby-boomers) want to hear, and they have the bucks to entice those old rockers out of retirement

Thanks to my cool sis, we were going to rent a Ford Explorer SUV. The kounouz were OVER The Moon excited. But at the rental counter, all they had left was an upgrade to Chevy Suburban. Hubby choked at the thought of the lower gas mileage (at $4.65/gal) but the kids went wild with excitement. When I saw this beautiful, humungous car, even I got excited. I thought: “Hey, it is MY turn to run other cars off the road!!!”

Since I am the one familiar to the territory, Skeeter let me drive. But I just couldn’t bear to drive like a royal chauffeur with those poh-lice lurking behind every billboard. The scenery is much like Jordan, desert and some scrubby shrubs. Once you get into Lassen National Forest, the beauty changes with the scenery. It was as if it was spring, wild flowers still blooming, squaw carpet and fresh green manzanita lining the roads until towering pines rise. Deer lined the highway at regular intervals, lifting heads to see who was passing through their domain. Breathtaking beautiful, soul food for an Ammani mom who likes cornfields, but LOVES mountains. I know Highway 89 is a precursor to heavenly delights.

Around a corner, we started down a two mile straight stretch through a canyon, the pavement undulating like a ribbon as far as I could see, the pine trees shadowing forward in variegated shades of dark green. The blazing orange sun (colored so due to the haze of many wildfires) lined up BETWEEN the pines, setting directly in front of us. Awesome. It was a Worship Moment, one of those times God pulls back the curtain between this world and eternity and adds just a touch of His glory to make it supernatural. Hallelujah.

Several hours later, we pulled up the gravel drive to Sis’s ranch. More than a dozen dogs bounded down the road to greet us, followed by Sis and her Hubby. Joyous, joyous reunion. Lots of hugs, lots of Great Pyrenees slobber. Can’t wait for more.