Vegas by night

The bright lights of the big city should be seen, and that means a night flight over Las Vegas. The MGM Grand, looking ... grand. That famous pyramid thing, A mini Eiffel Tower. Lights, Dice, Winners and Losers. And passers by, stranger in the night taking a connection to Denver.

The homeward journey is one of joy and sorrow. Less eventfull than outbound but still an unpredictable mixed bag of feelings. Vegas sure was pretty and in the minutes I was there I started to forget everything else.

I've got a theory that return flights are always easier than outward. The security of a home to go to - the home I left - the home that waits for me.
I've put in my effort, I made it there, the return will be easy compared. Its over a day to get home but I'm two flights in already.

In Vegas I left behind a few dollars for a keyring. In Raleigh I left behind my family, Paul and Kathy. Orlando still has its uptight boarding attendant and Charlotte still has Steve at the greyhound station.
At Denver International Airport, i've left behind a tear I couldn't catch. A symbol of the heart that has gone into this passage. Once more my journey swings from traveling away to traveling toward. Home awaits.

Family Ties

In many ways the last hundred and eighty miles of my journey to Raleigh were the least eventful, but perhaps the most memorable of the trip.
Nothing sinks in when you move from gate to gate. One aeroplane, one airplane. All that changes is the voice that says it.
However, this was different. The greyhound. Passing a BoJangles, Taco Bell, Wal*Mart and Wendys woke me from an hypnotic waking sleep and into a 'nearly home' buzz of anticipation.

This is how I remember America, roads and fields to the treeline horizon. I've only been outside for a total of two hours in four days until now but a window seat on a greyhound can feel a lot like being free compared to the confined walls and departure lounge or an over-wing isle seat in economy plus.

But its more than that, for perhaps the first time I really have been traveling *to* not traveling *from* - and there always feels like a difference. I'm not going from Denver or from Orlando, I'm now really going To Raleigh. Perhaps it doesn't make a difference, who knows. The real difference I suppose, is the feeling of travel. I can see the trees come and go, gas stations pass us by. It feels like we're moving now, i'm not abstracted from the process - I can see the ground move beneath us. Rain is falling toward us from above. I feel like I'm moving now, traveling. Not waiting. Waiting to board, waiting to take off, waiting to land. Now I'm on the road. Moving.

I've been looking forward to coming here, so much so that I've found a way to make it. I nearly gave up at Denver, heck I almost surrendered at Orlando but there is nothing like watching your suitcase take off that spurs you on to the next flight and through trains, planes and automobiles, Family is Family so here I am.

Greyhound

And thats how I ended up in a Charlotte greyhound station filled with its own walks of life. I really mean it. Nodding Steve, walking around. Occasionally inspecting a small portion of the floor and dragging his damp mop over it. And nodding again, only to wander off. I suspect he's been mopping the toilet floor too and wonder if he actually has a bucket for the mop.

But the greyhound station brings into light another side of life. Far removed from the buisness seats and free win of the airways. Gone are even the little packets of water and the glamour of late night cattle class flights. This is the bus station, and it brings out your fears, insecurities and prejudice. I've gone from being the lowest class citizen in a white buisness world to the rich boy traveller in an urban bus station.
Hispanics, niggers, A skanky cheerleader of augmented proportions whose homegirls bring all the boys to the yard. A Trailer Trash family. Action man and his army friends, constantly moving around, shifting their bags from one place to another.

Now nodding Steve has a broom. An elderly male bodybuilder, with thinning blond hair and juiced muscles showing through leathery skin. And lastly, a refugee from a Denver business trip, with matched black luggage sporting an Orlando travel tag sits weary, staring at the Namco cabnet where the occasional child plays Ms Pac Man.

These are people too poor or too desperate to fly. Children too young, women too fat, men too old. People who arn't willing to put thier gun in checked baggage. Mexicans without ID who would never make it past airport security. Just around the corner is another datum and scale to measure your life, what you have. What you don't.

Stop the pidgeon

Thankfully I was able to check my baggage at Denver and the throwers would ensure its there waiting for me at Charlotte, so my stop in Orlando was expected to be very brief indeed.

The attendant at the boarding gate had a different perspective on things, and refused to accept my DC/Raleigh ticket for an Orlando/Charlotte flight. After being given the runaround for an hour ping-ponging between desks I was finally able to watch flight 625 to Charlotte take off with my Denver Checked baggage. All I had to do was get on a plane going that way too.

Its times like this when you shudder at what felt like a harrowing experience - the Denver security line:
"Stand with your feet on the mark and your arms out"
(so I did)
"And the other mark, sir"
(so I did)
"One foot on each mark, sir."
(oh god)
In the end, they just seached me down and swabbed ALL of my luggage for chemical residue and sent me on my way. But to be honest, now I made it to Orlando and I've just watched my suitcase take off and fly over the horizon the security gate seems like a small deal.

Finally, many thanks go to a friendly lady from United who actually took the time to sort me out rather than bouncing me to another desk. Now I stand hundreds deep in another security queue.

Orlando.

The twinkling stars reveal themselves during a nightflight. Vast and distant as you feel yourself getting ever closer to thier burning magnificance.
You make up constellations as you stare at the shapes, thier patterns becoming familiar pictures against the blackness.

And slowly each one reveals itself by its shape and the guiding symmatry of a population centre under the flight path it becomes easy to find. Junctions are a bright spot of butter on a breadcrumb trail freeway.

Closer. Shopping centers distinguish themselves.

Closer. Cloverleaf junctions, white mice cars scamper on a yellow brick road.

Closer. Cars have two headlights now. Empty parking lots awash with a halogen sun.

Now you see a runway. Now you feel it. The safety belt sign finally gives up and we are free.

My way or the Fly way.

Learn the hard way if you want, but assume the hard way is a free hotel romm and a new itinerery IS the hard way and see how it goes.

My way was to get the first Eastbound night flight, reasoning that its an eight hour headstart on the fly-in-the-morning and stay an a cheap motel option the airport guy was trying to push.

And besides, if i'd wanted to fly tomorrow I could have bought a cheaper ticket AND got another paid-for night at the Marriott with another slap up breakfast.

When two-oh-two goes four-oh-four.

So its there, from a stroll around downtown Denver Colorado and a tasty Prime Rib steak and a bar celebrating St. Patricks Month that the Bossman and I part ways at Denver Int'l. Personal car service all the way to the terminal. With a smile.

And only seconds after we parted ways and he drove off, did I see the departures board - Flight 202 to DC - Cancelled. I checked the screen again, flight after flight "On Time", and flight 202 "Cancelled".
Well isn't that a symbolic turning point from the part of my trip that is paid and organised by uncle Disney to that part that is paid for and organised by me. Lets see what the check-in desk guy can do for me.

Well, what he can do is a flight the next day to Raleigh, and after some negotiation will pay my nights hotel room. Great, i've given up a suite at the Marriott for some airport b&b.
We try a few other options and he can put my on a flight heading East that connects to Charlotte - and gets there an hour before my plane would have landed at Raleigh. Its nice he's being flexible, and seems all too willing to help. I wonder if I've ever helped somebody do something they didn't want to do, or worse didn't KNOW they didn't want to do.

Its all too easy to help somebody in need, and its all to comfortable to feel good about doing it. But what I really needed what him to say "Don't fly to Charlotte, its 180 Miles off course. And don't connect via Orlando, either" But I told him I wanted to go to NC and he got me there, and was probably happy to help and felt good for meeting my needs.
There is a lesson to be learned about being helpful though.

So Where Is Denver?

After a little Satnav-less drive in a rented SUV around a suburb we got back on I-25 North, to Denver Colorado.
But there are only so many times you can say "I bet this is nice in the summer" while frozen extremities clang against your thighs before you make a mad dash for a bookshop to warm up.

So we made a mad dash for a bookshop to warm up. Because it was cold. And the icy wind did blow. However it must be said once more that downtown Denver would be nice in the summer, with its wide pedestrian walkways and assortment of shops, cafe/bars, shopping arcades and outdoor seating etc..

I was convinient that we rushed into a bookshop, because not only did I buy a book, but I'd actually forgotten until that point that I wanted to buy a book. Thats either good luck, fate, karma, or what happens when stupidity becomes a way of life due to a frozen brain. And I didn't want to buy a book just because the check out girl was worth checking out, or to burn as fuel in the cold-enough-to-freeze-a-monkey-to-death and windy-enough-to-blow-away-the-evidence City. No, I wanted to buy a book to read.

You get what you pay for...

... and I - at this point - have paid for nothing. But I still managed to turn the available ingredients into a sausage-and-bacon on white with ketchup, the cornerstone of any healthy breakfast.
Healthy that is, compared to the waffles with added carb topped with scarily bright yellow scrambled egg and maple syrup (etc) that make up an american start to the day.

But the rest of the summit and its tasty tortilla lunch went well, being cost effective in my books at the very least.

The summit, of course, it my reason for making this one-day round trip to Denver. Being Dish Networks 5th annual iTV summit no less. And enough to state my main reason to enter the country is buisiness, and explain slowly that 'interactive' and 'tractor' are not the same word - eventually giving up and using "Satillite Tee Vee" In hindsight I should have switched straight to "I work for the cable company"
Always say "pleasure" when she asks.

However, the pay-naught-get-it-all part to this trip is about to come to an end.

Campaign for real ale.

The hotels local beer washed down its damn fine fresh venison after passport ID validated my age above twenty-one. And friendly Roger the waiter ~of course~ made Roger wait.

The brew was alright, drinkable but a little heavy and gritty to my taste. One thing it wasn't was light American beer though, and it went well with the meal - even with the strawberry and baby spinich with roast peppers salad.
Strawberry salad. They might have been garnish, but the good old never-say-die british spirit (and american hooch) made sure I ate them all.

The seven-hour extended day pushed my limits to the end - finall collapsing on waking hour twenty-five to a reasonable, if patchy sleep.

Lose an hour, Gain an hour

Eight and a half hours can go by pretty quick when you have a comfortable seat, nice wine, good food and great films.
Then there is cattle class, Half Baked Air hostesses, half dressed salad and half fresh bread.
~sigh~ But thats only half of my story.

A refreshing nights sleep allowed me to painfully endure as many half cut movies as my half open eyes would let me, and I pushed through the day until its tasty dinner gently rocked me to sleep.

Another year, another post.

Here I am again, Raleigh NC.

Traveling could have been smoother, and the real difference I've noticed is that smooth, relaxing traveling gives you plenty of time to think, but short flights with connections, trains - planes and automobiles and a Network conference with a paradigm of dynamic synergy and digital convergance really stretches the brain matter out like butter over too much bread.

Anyway, the next few posts overdetail a short round trip between London England and Raleigh NC and what went through my mind when I wasn't thinking, as well as hopefully what I was thinking when there was something on my mind.