My Macworld Odyssey (Part 4)

At some point on Saturday just after the Expo closed but previous to going to the airport I received a call from my good friend Dave whose home I had stayed in for a long weekend in Ohio just before Macworld. He and his wife Joyce wanted to meet me when I arrived back at the Akron Airport. I tried to dissuade him since I wasn’t feeling well and my plan was to try and get home to Virginia once I touched down, but he really wanted to see me one more time. Because one of my favorite topics to talk about is myself (this far into the narrative and you didn’t know this?) and I had lots of fresh stories to tell, I let myself be persuaded. I figured all I needed was some sleep and I’d be right as rain once I got to Ohio.

Once Tim and I arrived at the Airport we looked inside and saw a large line snaking its way through the security checkpoint. Apparently leaving late from San Francisco is a popular mode of travel because there were a lot more people than I would have assumed to be. I was very ill by now and weaving a little as we stood there. Tim poked me a couple of times after receiving no response from me over something he had just said just to make sure I wasn’t turning into a brain-eating zombie. As we walked up to the counter to check in, we both decided to see what options there was for upgrading to either business or first class on the flight we were both going to be on. When told the price on the screen, we jumped at it even though it was a little more than I had originally wanted to spend. Long flights in cramped economy seats are hell even when you’re feeling well and are rested and we were neither (me especially so).

We got our E-Tickets and on further examination we were surprised to see that not only was I going to Grand Rapids as my final destination (when I needed to get to Akron, Ohio because that was where I had foolishly left my car), but we were also both named Tim Robertson. My parents had not named me Tim Robertson upon my birth (not that odd since Tim is 10 years younger than me and my parents last name wasn’t Robertson but Serle) and the Commonwealth of Virginia for some reason had issued me a driver’s license that also didn’t identify me as Tim Robertson so this was going to be a problem. We went and sought out an actual live person (crazy I know right?) who pushed a lot of buttons and printed out reams of paper that she immediately tore up and threw away. She seemed somewhat skeptical that we weren’t both Tim Robertson going to Grand Rapids, Michigan until I agreed to sign a blood oath in Klingonese that I could possibly be a completely different person. More tap-taps and buzzes later I held in my hand a ticket that had my name on it and actually gave me the right to board a plane that was going in the general direction of where I needed to be because..you know…that’s what I paid for.

We put our bags up to be checked and I received my next big shock for the evening. Remember we had just paid extra to fly first class and that I didn’t have really anything extra (well, too much extra anyway) that I hadn’t arrived with a few days earlier flying economy. My bag was declared to be too heavy and if I wanted it to get to Akron I was going to have to pay an additional $125 in excess baggage fees. The counter person (as compared to a regular person…see what I did there?) clucked somewhat sympathetically and asked if I could move any of my dirty laundry from my check-in bag to my crammed to the gills with expensive tech gear carry-on. I decided to just pay the fee.

The rest of the time waiting to board the flight was uneventful except for me feeling like garbage. All I wanted to do was to get to my now ridiculously priced seat and go to sleep. We ran into the rest of the OWC crew who were not flying first class and it would have been fun to trade quips with Tim about how the peasants were flying this season but my heart just wasn’t into it. We boarded the plane and I tried to go to sleep. Neither Tim nor I were very successful at this except for a few 15-minute little catnaps during the flight. Unfortunately we weren’t in sync during these bouts of unconsciousness so I doubt we exchanged more that 10 words between us during the entire flight. Our first classiness got us a fruit plate and sandwich and all the drinks we could want (I pounded water and OJ trying to keep hydrated) and a seat that I could actually be comfortable in. The in-flight movie was Whip It with Ellen Page and I saw nearly the whole thing. It actually was pretty good and a chick flick you can watch with your girlfriend and not feel all Oprah-ey about it. Besides the typical “will she or won’t she have sex with the bad boy and regret it later because of blah blah blah”, it also had Roller Derby with girls slamming the crap out of each other because that’s how they roll (HA!).

We arrived in Chicago at a little after 5AM local time feeling like something the cat had dragged in, then feeling contrary about it, dragged back out, rolled it in some other animal’s leavings and then gave it up as a waste of time because there was something shiny around the corner that didn’t look or smell as bad as we did. Naturally we had over 2 hours to wait before our flights and after eating some McDonalds sat around with very little to say that would have been coherent. Tim’s flight was before mine, so we said our goodbyes and can’t wait for next years and off he went for his OWN adventures in getting home. I spent a little time in my wait editing some video that in retrospect I changed back because color correcting to make people green and focusing on nose hairs may be amusing after almost 2 nights of no sleep and long flights, but hardly makes for good television.

The flight to Akron was pretty short and upon arrival there was Dave and Joyce waiting for me. I grabbed my suitcase and together we trudged out to my somewhat buried in snow Ford Flex. After digging out, we decided to go get something to eat and ended up at Cracker Barrel…on a Sunday…at 11Am…on Valentine’s Day. It was packed of course and it was a good 45 minutes of wandering around the gift shop until we were seated. The food as always was pretty good. Dave offered to let me catch some sleep at his house but at this point all I wanted was to get going towards home.

So, on almost no sleep for 2 days, an overnight flight, and a big meal I decided to begin a 6-8 hour drive on snow-covered roads. This was probably not the best decision I’ve ever made and it didn’t take me long to realize that I was not only running on empty, but also barefoot and on broken glass. I got as far as Kent, Ohio before giving up. A paraplegic snail with a tooth infection and a really bad attitude could have gotten farther than I did that day. Since snails don’t have limbs or teeth (whatever attitude they may have is THEIR problem), rest assured that it wasn’t very far.

The hotel I stayed in had a king-sized bed with lots of pillows, clean sheets, and comfy blankets. Quite frankly it could have been a bed of rusty H1N1 infected nails and I still would have slept for hours. I woke up around 7PM, went out and grabbed food of some description, ate it, and fell asleep again until the next day. I awoke with a firm determination to get home. This lasted until just before the Ohio/ Pennsylvania border when the snow began to fall. Yes, MORE frigging snow.

(Interlude)

When I was a kid growing up in South Florida, I used to think that playing in the snow or even SEEING snow could possibly have been the most wonderful thing ever and an absolute highlight of my life. I would like someone to invent a working time machine so I can go back and slap the %*&#@ out of myself. Thank you.

(Interlude ends)

It wasn’t that really cool snow drifting breezily in the wind, covering the trees, and making the world look pretty, it was a cold sideways driving snow that obscured your vision and made the ever-under-construction hell of the Pennsylvania Turnpike a nightmare. You kept a firm eye on the tire tracks in front of you, because there sure as heck weren’t any painted lines defining traffic lanes and patterns anywhere I could see. So I’m trying to focus on (more or less) parallel lines in front of me while snow blasted across at a 90 degree angle. It usually takes about 2-3 hours to go from the Ohio border into Pennsylvania to Breezewood which is where I get off the turnpike and onto Interstate 70 towards Washington, DC and most parts east. This day it took over 5 hours and by the time I pulled into Breezewood, I was nearly snow-blind and disoriented. Snow-blindness is an interesting experience that usually happens when driving long distance in a heavy snow. Your eyes get fatigued trying to distinguish between the road (a constant) and blowing snow and many times you can either fall asleep behind the wheel or fail to see a turn in the road while your eyes get unfocused watching small white particles gust past your windshield. These are both bad things to have happen when driving between 40 and 70 miles per hour. Again, I gave up for the day and checked into a hotel in Breezewood.

Having driven back and forth between Virginia and Ohio as many times as I have since 1984 meant that the town of Breezewood and I had known each other very well. This was the first time however that I had actually stayed there. It’s an odd place, filled with hotels, coffee shops, tourist traps, restaurants, and other places to help you part with some of spare cash that everyone has just lying around. Sort of like Las Vegas without any of the good bits.

My path had always been; get off I-70, take a right, get onto the turnpike or naturally the exact opposite on my way home. This is a clear defined course that I trusted and knew very well, so it should not have come as a surprise to me that if I ever deviated from that track that I could be in big trouble. I deviated, got in trouble, and of course was surprised. When I went out that evening to get something to eat, my choices were fast food or diner food. Neither appealed to me and I decided to drive just a bit further to see what other choices they might be. In hindsight, this was the absolute stupidest thing I could have done. Once out of Breezewood proper, the road turns into a divided highway with no turns, no exits, no streetlights, and of course, lots and lots of snow. I ended up going almost 20 miles before I could find a place to turn around that didn’t seem to go off into a ditch or down a crevasse where my frozen and starved body would not be found until sometime in July. After all this, Taco Bell looked pretty damn good.

The next day was Tuesday the 16th. I had arrived back east on the 14th and it has now taken me the better part of three days to travel a distance I usually do in 6-8 hours. I was unhappy, my wife was unhappy, my kids were unhappy, and if my car had been capable of such emotions, it would have been unhappy too. My sanity was saved by there being no major incidents of weirdness between Breezewood and Washington DC. As I pulled into the bleak landscape of Alexandria, Virginia with sheets of ice and half melted snow still covering the roads, potholes that might have made the Grand Canyon a little envious, and a mountain of dirty clothes, I was never so happy to be finally be home.

Can’t wait for Macworld 2011.