Friday, March 12, 2010

I was in Wyoming on business this week...

...and it was really an uneventful trip. I parked my car in the economy lot at O'Hare (surprised?) and it only cost me $33 from Sunday through Wednesday. You have to take a bus to the el to the terminal, but it was still worth it.

My flight actually left on time and arrived on time (huh?), so again, it was uneventful. I sat next to a nice retired guy who was going skiing in Montana. He's in a club that includes a 90-year-old man who is an active skier himself. (Kind of like my 90-year-old father. Not.) As I said, he was a nice guy and we struck up a conversation after I put down my book (Game Change, by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin--catnip for political junkies like me). He was the one who told me about the Astronomy Picture of the Day Web site that I mentioned in an earlier post (not necessarily my cup of tea, but whatever).

As we were approaching the Denver airport, I noticed he was furiously scribbling what looked like information from our flight--estimated time of arrival, speed, altitude, etc. At one point he turned to me and asked, "What did the captain just say about our altitude?"

"Huh?" I looked up from my book.

"Our altitude. What did the captain just say?"

"Uh...I don't know." I'm one of those people who never listen to anything the captain says. Just fly the plane; if I wanted to hear stand-up, I'd go to a comedy club.

"Why are you writing all of that down?"

"No reason. I just like to keep track."

"What do you do with all of that information after you land?"

"I never look at it again."

Oh, I get it. You're a whack job!

In Denver, I switched to one of those small puddle jumpers that give some people the heebie jeebies. I can't imagine why. The lady next to me, for instance, looked terrified when we hit one of those air pockets that cause the plane to drop dramatically. I tried to reassure her, "These small planes hardly ever go down." That didn't seem to calm her for some reason. Go figure.

Cheyenne, as I said, was uneventful, except for all the Christian and NRA bumper stickers. To paraphrase Dorothy Gale, I was not in Kansas anymore. No matter, it was only for a couple of days. (And no sign of Dick or Liz Cheney. Phew!)

I returned on Wednesday to a 62 degree day in Chicago and drove home with the windows open and the tunes blaring. Spring is definitely on the way!

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