Travelling by Air

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Sir Bedevere: 'Now, why do witches burn?'

Peasant: '... because they're made of wood?'

Sir Bedevere: 'Good. So how do you tell whether she is made of ... wood?'

Peasant 2: 'Build a bridge out of her.'

A Cautionary Tale of Travelling by Air

My plane is late leaving LaGuardia, an hour late, which will cut into the time I have to make connections in Montreal. I need that time for customs, picking up my suitcase, going through security, dropping off the suitcase and then getting though the next security before boarding my final flight. If I’m lucky, I’ll have time to eat.

Everywhere in the Montreal airport, there are signs saying, “This process will take 10 to 15 minutes. Following that, you have a 5 to 12 minute walk to your gate.” This is supposed to be helpful. It isn’t reassuring when I’ve lost an hour, sitting on the runway at LaGuardia.

I hustle through the Montreal airport, walking-running-sprinting, paying attention to where I’m going so I don’t waste time getting lost. All is well, though time is tight, until I reach the place where I hand over my customs form and am about to return my luggage to Air Canada. I fumble handing the form to the staff person. My hands are sweaty from hurrying.

He looks at me, sees an older, overweight, sweaty woman who appears nervous.  Automatically, he points at an open door. Now, I have to go to a second level of security screening. The officer decides I am trying to hide something.

Him: What are you declaring?

Me:  (I think, holy shit I’ll never make the plane now, but remain polite.) I bought two small books and a DVD while in New York.

Him: You’re telling me that you were in New York for Black Friday and all you spent was $60?

Me: Yes. I went to visit family, to spend time with grandchildren.  All I’m bringing back are two books and a Monty Python DVD.  (I offer the additional information hoping it makes me look ordinary, boring and non-threatening.)

Him: Are you saying that if I search your bag and your purse, I won’t find undeclared items?

Me:  That’s what I’m saying.  I have a cold, caught it from my grandson and I’ve been running trying to make my connection. That’s why I look flustered.

Him: Yes,’ tis the season for giving. (No smile.)  I want to search your bags.

Me: That’s OK with me.  Can you help me lift the suitcase?

Him: You look anxious? Are you hiding anything? (He glares at me.)

Me: (Trying hard to remain calm and polite.) No I’m not hiding anything. I visited my family and I didn’t want anything badly enough to take the train, then the subway into New York to shop over the Thanksgiving holiday. I am anxious as I don’t have much time to get to my next flight.

Him: You are shaking and your eyes are watery.

Me:  Yes, I have a cold, and yes, my nose and eyes are runny.

Him: I think you are hiding something.

Me: (I think every swear word I know.) I say: I am hiding nothing but you are welcome to search. Perhaps you could help me lift this bag to your counter.

Him: (Smirking.) You look suspicious because you dropped your customs form and because you are sweating. (He stares and bends over the counter to push his face closer to mine.) I can go through everything. What will I find?

Me: (I stare back, feel bullied. I hope he catches my cold. He continues to stare at me silently. I blow my nose.)

Finally...

Him: Have a good trip. You can go now.

Me: Thanks. (I think bad thoughts.)

 I run-walk to return my bag to Air Canada: this contentious bag containing two small books and a DVD and my clothes.

It is 20 minutes until final boarding for my plane. I go through the next security point (10 to 15 minutes) and then run to my gate (faster than the seven minutes it says it takes). I make it, sweating, out of breath, feeling miserable.

Because of delays, I eat nothing since breakfast except airline pretzels and water. I feel sick and shiver uncontrollably in the uncomfortable, cold and noisy Air Canada Dash 8 which flies from Montreal to Moncton.

The air hostess is friendly, asks if I want water and free pretzels. I say no. She asks if I enjoyed my trip.

The answer is yes, except for this last day of travel with Air Canada, coming back through Montreal.

What have I learned?

Don’t sweat or look nervous when passing through security’s scrutiny.  (Yes, I know they have a job to do and an important one, however this issue of being hauled over and given the gears for merely sweating has happened before. I’m sorry but I’m a damp kind of person.)

Don’t fly with a cold. Wow! That was a painful lesson and one I won’t repeat.

Drive instead of flying whenever possible.

Learn to sprint without perspiring.

Why am I not complaining about my trip from Moncton to New York?

I flew that part of the trip with West Jet.

Perhaps, the Monty Python writers could make a movie moment out of the idiocy of harassing older, out-of-shape women in airport security.

The photo and quote above are from Monty Python's The Holy Grail.

Happy New Year 2015

       What a quiet beginning to 2015! 

       We have family around but are unable to spend time with them as they have been dealing with the flu. They seem to be improving but now Gary has a head and chest cold. Save for coughing and sneezing, it has been a quiet end to 2014 and an even quieter beginning to 2015.

       Gary has been resting, as have the cats. And while no one was watching, the annual visitors to our yard have returned.  

       Now, we'll have ducks staring longingly at our kitchen windows every morning when we wake. They wait for Gary to feed them.

       If he's not better soon, that will be my job.

       Happy New Year 2015. Things change, things remain the same.

Purple Finches at the Feeder

Their muted rose and tan match the colours of sedums and hydrangeas in the garden, and the weigela leaves turning toward autumn.  I'm stuck inside nursing a head cold, but still thrilled to be able to sit and watch the colours changing through watery eyes, between sneezes ... a Monet-like blur.

Summer Whine

Summer Whine

Breathe in lavender

and roses, impossible

with a summer cold.

Sun kisses my skin;

comfort, caress and healing

for fever and ache.

Summer day singing,

leaves chat with the breeze.  I cough,

cough as chipmunks chirr.

I want to exchange:

tissues, lozenges and sneezes

for margaritas.

I want to breathe in summer,

be well and be well.

This is not an earth-moving poem but one which is reflective of my whiny state, of having a summer cold for the second time this summer.   I dream of being well again and enjoying the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of summer, and of writing better when my head is clear.

Head Cold Whining

“The best way to take care of yourself is to care for your Self.”  This quote is from the back cover of a book I’m reading, Self-Care for Life.

I believe this. 

All month I’ve read daily suggestions about self-care and have improved my own self-care routines.  However, this seems odd and a tad useless given that I’ve had two colds during that time.

I was miserable with my first cold which lasted for two weeks.  I became better; well again for a solid week.  This new cold began Monday past and is worse than the first one. 

My eyes feel like someone inside my head is pushing on them.  My face aches from sinus pressure.  My ears and throat are sore.  Coughing, sneezing, runny everything—you get the picture.  I’m a mess!

I’m frustrated, cranky and feeling sorry for myself.  Today, this cold prevents me from attending a pot-luck party I’ve been anticipating for weeks.  Really annoying, missing friends, food and fun!

I am at a loss about how to help myself get well.  I’ve tried lots of rest, combined with over-the-counter cold and flu remedies. I’ve stayed at home this week, gone out for essentials only, plus one class I couldn’t bear to miss.  If you've read my blog entry for January 9, 2012, you’ll remember the stack of cold remedies in the first photo.  I've managed to go through all of those "cures."

Following home remedies to care for my cold, I’ve consumed hot lemon drinks, hot ginger drinks, and herbal teas and fruit juices.  I’ve sipped chicken soups, eaten heaps of fruits and vegetables and gargled with/inhaled salted warm water.

I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.  I know that colds take time to run their course, but I am weary of a box of tissues as my best friend.

Any suggestions?

The photo is mine.  If you click on words printed in color, you will be taken to another website with additional information.

Self-Care, a Gift

It's been days since my last post, 11 in fact.  I've been ill with a thoroughly nasty head cold during most of that time.  Amazing to me that so much mucus can be produced inside one's head.  I've begun to wonder if I am hollow, save for snot.  Certainly, there hasn't been much brain activity during the sick time, among chills and fevers and fuzzy dreams, I have floated and slept and sneezed and blown.  Too much detail?

The last few days of December were wondrous times spent with family, some company staying here.  A party to celebrate Melanie's and Kelly's wedding with 35 close family and friends was a delight. 

Gary made a huge fragrant pot of his signature spaghetti sauce, his homemade caesar salad dressing and hand done croutons and bacon bits.  We fed everyone full to the brim, with decadent spaghetti, flavourful caesar salad, fresh garlic bread, rich Christmas sweets, and cakes (chocolate and carrot), attended with wines and holiday beverages. 

Tim gave a speech and we all welcomed Kelly to the family.  It was fun!  It was yummy!  And it was work!  It was a warm and boisterous family party.

And well worth the time and energy and love that went into it!

Over the holiday, we had times of smaller get-togethers with children living here and from away, and with much loved grandchildren: all treasured and appreciated and held now in fond memory.

I've written myself some notes.  Things to remember for next Christmas.  Ways to simplify and to relax and to spread out the work.  Will I remember?  Will I make changes?  Will I put a higher priority on self-care?  I hope so.  We'll see next holiday season if lessons have been learned.

Perhaps I will finally open the present I can give to myself,

the gift of better self-care!

All photos are mine.