The Journey: Atlanta to Chicago

I am not a morning person. I never have been. A lifetime of forcing my biological clock to wake in the pre-dawn hours has failed to change that reality. But I rather unwisely chose a 7:30 am flight thinking that it would give me more time to spend with Mollie. Beverly isn't a morning person either, but unlike me, she recognized that nothing was going to change that. She was gracious though, to agree to wake in the still dark, pre-dawn hours to drive me to the airport, only to have to fight city of Atlanta traffic all the way home. Everyone needs a Beverly in their lives. I know that I have been blessed with her friendship.

As I said before, the trip to the airport was spent mostly in silence with a million memories flooding my mind and making me believe that I was doing the wrong thing. But once at the airport, I was busy with so many things all thoughts of nostalgia vanished. I dropped the two large bags at the baggage check outside the airport. The porter barely looked at me and mumbled the entire time he was checking my bags. Telling him that I am hard of hearing and showing him my hearing aids only made him lower his voice and turn away from me while he talked. But my biggest fear went unrealized when my bags checked within the weight and size limits. I did not have to pay any extra for them.

The next challenge was to find my gate. I rearranged my carry-ons and took off to the security check point. Getting through it was an ordeal. Nothing really unusual, but still a lot like cattle being forced through stockyard gates. The TSA representatives were friendly and helpful, but still, I'm glad that it's not something that I face every day.

So after all of us cattle were forced through the gates we were loaded onto trains and taken to the terminals. Mine flight was on Terminal D and the gate was all the way at the very end. I would have liked to have gotten a snack to eat while I was waiting, but I couldn't figure out how to manage it, and my baggage and my cane all at once, so I went to the gate and worked on a sweater while I waited.

The plane was packed. Every seat had been sold. Apparently there was some sort of baseball game in St. Louis that everyone was traveling to. I sat by an grandfather/grandson pair who were more interested in looking out the window than bothering me.

There was a 2 hour layover in St. Louis and the airport was small and very easy to navigate. I went to one of the restaurants and had a sandwich and a soda while I waited. Before I knew it I was on the plane to Chicago, and was getting excited about seeing Mollie again. Once again, the plane was packed. But once again I was lucky. I chose a window seat because I wanted to see what had been so fascinating. It was actually horrifying. The land had been flooded and there seemed to be hundreds of miles of farms and communities that were cut off on all sides by flood waters. I can't imagine what the people who lived there were going through.

It was early afternoon when I finally landed in Chicago. But I had a hard time finding Mollie and the baggage terminal where my luggage was, so it was around 2 pm by the time I finally was out of the airport and beginning my short visit.

I have pretty pictures to show you of my visit, but this post is already too long. I will write more later.