More Adventures on an Island

I don’t remember exactly where we went wrong. Somewhere along the line, we took a wrong turn and ended up in an awful place. It didn’t have to be that way. If I had only listened, or if you said that one thing. But let’s start at the very beginning of that day.

I was on my way to New York, well, really Pennsylvania, but it was close enough that the cheapest flight was into La Guardia airport in New York City. I was on my way to a conference for Brilliant Light Power a company that I believe, against most mainstream thought, will revolutionize the world starting with cheap limitless power, but then moving into communications, transportation and computing. Anyway, my flight left Salt Lake for Houston at 7:00 am with a 50 minute connection to the flight to La Guardia. Fifty minutes. No problem. Ha.

We pushed from the gate right on time and sat. It had snowed overnight and that morning so we were in for the mandatory (and welcome) round of de-icing. Just as an aside (because I know my readers live for the asides). I am a big fan of de-icing. Back in 1996 I was doing quite a bit of work for Swire Coca-Cola in Salt lake when all but one of their leadership team died tragically in an airplane crash. They had been flying between different sales centers on a tour when their twin engine prop plane nosed into a potato farm in Idaho because the plane had not been properly de-iced. Gulp. That’s why I’m always happy to see those huge nozzles spraying toxic sludge all over the plane.

And I was happy that morning. I would have been happier had it occurred just a little sooner. Apparently, because of some unspecified problem with a truck, we waited for an hour (AN HOUR!) to have our plane de iced. We pushed back at 7:00, but were still on the ground waiting for our ice removal at 8. Yikes. The nice woman sitting in my row with her son showed me on the United App where I could see how this wait was going to affect my connection. It wasn’t good.

Off, we went eventually to the remarkably insincere sounding apologies from “the flight deck.” They promised to try to make up some time which I have heard before and always found confusing. Don’t they plan on flying as fast as they can? Apparently not. It must have something to do with fuel consumption. So there we were flapping our wings as fast as we could and by George, those folks on “the flight deck” made up some time. By our approach it showed I had fifteen minutes to make what my app said was a twelve minute walk to the next flight. The nice flight crew even asked those who didn’t have tight connections to sit tight while the rest of us left the plane. It kind of worked, but there were enough with tight connections that the result was meh.

So, off I went not running, but walking pretty swiftly down the concourse, I arrived at the gate before the time they had said they would end boarding, but I was like the last one I saw waiting around for the flight. No problem, right? Oh, did I mention that beginning with a half hour before the three and a half hour flight to Houston, I had not been to the bathroom? No? Well it was true. I was faced with a dilemma as I approached the gate. Do I ask the attendant if I have time to go potty or just get on the plane. I opted for the latter and as I settled into my seat I realized I had made a big mistake.

Three and a half hours later (mercifully a full thirty minutes ahead of schedule) I left the plane and sprinted to the nearest bathroom. What a relief that was!

Then I headed down to retrieve my bag. Ah, another thing I forgot to mention. Before the flight from Salt Lake I had heard with gleeful triumph the request for people to check their carry on to their final destination. During my flying for work days I developed a distaste for lugging the luggage on and off and up and down, so I check it whenever I can, but I also hate paying checked baggage fees so I had opted out on this flight relying on just the sort of announcement I had just heard. I sauntered aboard the plane unburdened and carefree almost disdainful of those poor souls hucking suitcases down the aisle desperately hoping there would be room in the overhead bins.

So, I approached the baggage claim ready to begin the last part of my journey—a two hour drive from the middle of New York to rural (kind of) PA. And I stayed there ready until I got the notice that the baggage personnel in Houston had not been as interested in seeing that my luggage made my flight as I had been about my person. The app told me it would arrive sometime later, but not to worry report the delay and where you would be and they would deliver it to me.

Fine.

Then on my way out to catch the shuttle to the rental car place I remembered two things: 1) my phone was almost out of power; and 2) all my charging cables were in my luggage. Now I know why they have those little kiosks all over the airport even at the exit doors. So, I ducked in there and spent $20 ($20!) on a power cord. Now here in the midst of a technological transition I had to decide what kind of outlet I wanted—USB-B or USB-C. (Doesn’t the totally incompatibility of the two “Universal” plugs make it sound like someone is fuzzy on the whole “universal” concept?). I was planning on charging my phone in the car, so in a nod to the lagging nature of the auto industry I chose USB-B.

Got to Hertz and was able to choose my car. I chose a KIA sedan that looked nice. I climbed in. It only had a USB-C connection. Great. The next one, a Subaru, was admirably behind the times and I plugging in my brand new power cord to the car and phone, turned the car on so it would charge and called my granddaughter. Quin was turning three on Tuesday the First of April so I wished her a happy birthday and hung up.

Rental cars are always an adventure. With the advent of tons of electronics and gadgets, it is just a bit tricky to become familiar with it all before heading out. In particular, I needed my phone connected so I could use Google Maps to get me out of the city and to my hotel. After a moment of reflection and one attempt I was stumped. But not to worry the car itself came with a navigation system. So I fired it up and put in my destination. My new best friend and I started on our adventure.

Right off the bat we had issues. She told me to turn left on Marine Terminal Rd, but coming out of a parking lot is always problematic because I am never sure my guide knows exactly where we are and there was no handy road sign telling me where Marine Terminal Rd. was. Moreover I could have sworn when I actually left the lot she told me to turn right. Within a block I understood my mistake and made the U turn she insisted I take Right. Now. I was back on track for a good hundred yards.

The next morning I tried to figure out what happened. I was certain I was following her directions, but after ten minutes or so, I found myself driving down a one way street with houses and people crammed together on each side. As I continued following the directions, I burrowed deeper and deeper into the city, until at one point I crossed a bridge into Manhattan. From there things are a blur. I started seeing cross streets like 41^st Street. Heavy traffic is an understatement. Drivers darted out in front of me narrowly avoiding me and the million bike messengers with death wishes. At about 32^nd street I decided that my guide had no idea what she was doing. At one of the many stops, I pulled up my phone opened google maps, tapped in my destination and pressed go. Sure enough Google was taking me a different way. So, I turned off the Subaru’s system. Now, when the phone is connected I get verbal directions through the car’s audio, but my phone wasn’t connected so I expected directions through my hearing aids (which are connected to the phone). Nope. So there I am in the middle of Manhattan holding my phone up with one hand so I can see where I’m supposed to go and steering with the other.