Mixed feelings, pilots and pull-a-long cases

Greetings from Mixed Feelings Central tonight, also known as LA international airport.  In the words of my 5-year-old nephew this evening - 'Auntie Helen - why are you going travelling? Why don't you just stay here longer, or go home?' Part of me is wondering the same - I've been cushioned in the most beautiful, comfortable home imaginable, with a friendly dog, a lizard who was not unfriendly, albeit with a slightly shifty look about him (but I think that's most lizards, not that I know many - nay, any, pet lizards), a bouncing nephew, adorable niece, plus obviously my sister and brother-in-law, and what am I doing? Boarding two planes to go elsewhere and stay somewhere that hopefully isn’t a brothel.  (I have made that mistake before and it was awkward). 

I suppose there’s something about a balanced trip – some domestic familiarity with someone I have known her entire life – then a plunge into the unknown of two other nearby countries.  I say ‘nearby’.  They looked about two inches away on the map, but the reality is quite different – two flights away – the choice was a 2359 departure or a 0545 departure, so I went for the former, meaning I had three nights with the family.  But I really shouldn’t moan – what an opportunity to visit these places.  I’m in this neck of the metaphorical woods (such as stupid expression – whoever knew a wood to have a neck), so why not. 

Today was so lovely.  I was on baby duty again first thing, cuddling and supervising in that way that only Auntie Helen can.  We had pancakes with blueberries for breakfast, along with copious cups of tea.  My nephew was at gymnastics camp for most of the day, burning off some energy.  My sister and I packaged up the baby into the car and headed for Target, the US equivalent of one of those giant Tesco’s, like the one in Woolwich, where you can buy anything, from a pint of milk, to a really really large plastic box, to, well just about anything.  I bought a tankini, which is like a very small tank.  I also bought a load of earrings, which my sister and I divided up according to our styles (of lack thereof – me, not her).  We went for coffee and the baby had a Peter Rabbit strawberry snack thing, most of which ended up on the high chair, in her bib, and on the floor, but she was happy – I’m still haunted by the whole Peter Rabbit film experience on the way out.

Back at the ranch, we napped and drank tea, then collected my nephew from his camp (which is a day camp rather than a camp camp).  On the way back we stopped at a quirky international food-and-lots-of-other-things store; my sister bought some actual tea, (which had a stark health warning displayed over it, ominously suggesting that I am doomed by my tea consumption); a crafty sales assistant gave my nephew a plastic grabbing tool, which he persuaded my sister to purchase; he then proceeded to grab everything in sight in the car on the way home, from stray packaging, to the baby, but she giggled along and even clapped.

I then found myself bouncing on the trampoline with my nephew, playing ‘catch me if you can’, whereby one has to bounce around to try to tap the other person; the rules change variously as nephew periodically introduces new rules or changes previous rules, and it can get confusing.  His energy is boundless – mine is not - ‘Why can’t you bounce more Auntie Helen?’ – ‘Because I am seven times your age and I don’t do any exercise!’ – I did some exercise once and it didn’t work out.

Brother-in-law returned from work and we enjoyed our final meal together in the garden, eagerly joined by #DogFriend2; it was very warm – even the lizard had submerged himself in his pool to stay cool, and he's a lizard.  

I packed my bag and my sister drove me to the airport.  The children came too, although the baby screamed her apocalyptic scream much of the way, so I clambered into the back and eventually soothed her.  The freeway (motorway to you and me) was fine, but as soon as we hit the approach road, it was gridlock.  About 3 million cars converged and edged inch-by-inch to the airport.  Once we eventually got there, both children were snoring – my nephew looked like a basking terrapin with his mouth wide open and head tilted upwards.  The baby sharply inhaled as though she was still screaming apocalyptically in her sleep.  Babies eh - I should know, I used to be one.

There was a man shouting ‘no parking, drop off only’; we duly obliged, as agreed.  In seconds, I had leapt out of the car, hugged my sister, then they were gone.  I watched them pull away and disappear back into the everlasting stream of vehicles.  I had little tears thinking about what a lovely and precious time I had had.  The baby is days away from taking her first steps.  She crawls at top speed and pulls herself up, looks nervously around, then has second thoughts and lowers herself down.  She can climb a flight of stairs in no time at all, which is very disconcerting.

I wandered into the airport to start part 2 of this journey.  It felt odd to sudden be alone, surrounded by clueless holidaymakers and weary travellers, rather than squawking children.  Odd and a bit lonely.  But moments lady, a nice lady had helped me check-in after the angry machine rejected me, and I was very soon in a baggage drop-off queue, being complimented on my ‘fabulous’ accent by two holidaymakers from Santa Barbara who have five grandchildren.  Two people have said that I have a fabulous accent, so it must be true. 

Since starting this blogpost I have now made it to Houston, Texas.  I’m gently confused as to what time it is – I seem to have gone forward two hours, but then after the next flight I’m going back another hour, which is odd as the location is further east – who decides on these things? I’ve no idea.

The flight was uneventful, until a pilot came and sat in the seat next to me.  ‘Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?’ I asked him.  He had a Pilots’ Association lanyard and everything, so he was definitely a pilot.  He looked like a pilot too – not a pirate, they’re different.  He said that somebody else was flying the plane and he didn’t laugh one tiny bit - the next 2 hours weren’t awkward at all.  I put a blanket over my head and snuggled up to my tray table, as much as one can snuggle up to a piece of rigid plastic. 

Methinks it must be Tuesday now, but I can’t be sure – I know that it traditionally comes after Monday.  I often think it would be more fun if the days of the week were chosen at random each weekend – there could be some sort of national draw on a Sunday to determine the order for the week – just a thought.

I now have a couple more hours to fly, then I will be in my penultimate destination for a couple of nights.  It will certainly be different to where I have been and hopefully a chance to read, write, and just to be really. 

I’m going to find the gate then curl up before boarding the penultimate flight of this adventure.  I’ve been sitting here at Houston Airport watching the world go by – honestly, what did the world do before the pull-a-long case was invented? At least airport-goers look a bit happier with their pull-a-long cases than their commuting counterparts on the London Underground – I once wrote a poem about London commuters called ‘Pull-a-long cases and miserable faces’.  Personally, I am not a fan of pull-a-long cases as they are a trip hazard.  People have died.

There are also a disproportionate number of people walking past wearing neck pillows – I have a neck pillow stored in a pouch in my travel jacket.  It was unfortunate that I packed the travel jacket in my checked baggage – I didn’t think I could really ask the flight staff if I could fetch my neck pillow from my bag, although maybe they would have gone and retrieved it.  Who knows.