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30 july 2000
----- Really, this was supposed to be two trips. A flight this weekend to NJ for my parents' 50th anniversary, then back to LA, and another flight next weekend to Washington, DC for an old college buddy's wedding. Then my boss stepped into the picture. "So you're gonna be in town this weekend? Why don'tcha stay a few extra days?" "Can't ... I need to be back in LA." "Why?" "Because I need to fly to Washington DC." "Well, that's crazy. Stay in NY and drive down to Washington next weekend." I thought about it; the band had the week off due to Mojo being in Spain, and there were no big obligations I had in LA this week, so I cancelled the DC flight and this has now become an eleven-day jaunt to the east coast. I had a direct flight booked from LA to Newark with one stop in Phoenix, leaving friday morning at 10am. I had originally planned to leave my car at the airport, but that was out of the question now. Brutus happened to be heading to the east coast as well, albeit a bit earlier than me, so I asked him for a ride. "Be outside on PCH at 5 oclock," he demanded. And so I was. We drove to LAX and watched the sun rise, and then I sat in the airport for four hours waiting for my flight to board. I snagged a seat in first class on standby, and we were off to Phoenix. A pleasant and uneventful flight. The plane landed at around 11, and we were asked to disembark for cleaning crews to come in before the second leg to Newark. I went to the bar for a quick drink and a smoke, and returned to the gate. The flight to Newark was delayed until 2pm, due to thunderstorms on the east coast. I went back to the bar and chatted with the bartender, a very nice woman named "Darolyn," and poked my head out from time to time to check the flight status. At around 1:30 they cancelled the flight. They said I was on standby for a 5:30pm flight landing in Newark at 1:30am. I checked the screens. The 5:30pm flight was already delayed until 7pm. The line at customer service was a mile long. I threw my bag in a locker and walked back through security, and downstairs to the ticket counter. I got on the "first class passengers" line and was called to the counter within thirty seconds. I explained the situation, and how I didn't want my parents driving to Newark at 3am to pick me up... "Well, there's an earlier flight into JFK ... oops, that just left. And that 5:30 flight is delayed. Hold on..." I was kinda laughing at this point. "OK, here we go ... a 9:55pm departure on Continental, landing in Newark at 5:20am." "Gimme that flight," I said, envisioning my parents picking me up at around 6:30am. At least it was daylight. She booked me in seat 1F, gave me two meal vouchers for my "inconvenience," which were good for food (but not alcohol) at any airport establishment. It was 2:30pm -- I had seven hours to kill. I debated grabbing a cab seeing the city of Phoenix. One step outside cancelled that idea. "But it's a dry heat" just wasn't cutting it -- I dove back into the terminal and its blessed air conditioning. I napped, I ate, I drank (Darolyn and I became good friends), I read, I made cell phone calls, I grew to hate Phoenix Sky Harbor airport. Finally, at 9:30 we boarded the flight. It took off on time, they gave me a hot towel and smoked salmon, and I fell asleep. Woke up to turbulence about ninety minutes out of Newark. We were flying over thunderstorms. I counted 28 of them all together, and they were so beautiful, fascinating to watch through the little window from my half-asleep state. They looked so small and surreal, lighting up the sky like a disco floor of clouds below our little flying tin can. We landed at 5:15 yesterday, and I found a couch in the arrival level where I could take a nap before the 'rents arrived. An hour later my cell phone rang and I arranged a meeting place away from the terminal traffic. Finally home, I fell asleep at 8am Eastern time, exactly 24 hours after Brutus had picked me up in Malibu. I woke up at noon and called my brother to begin the preparations for my parents' surprise party. Then I went clothes shopping in Paramus, picked up a sport jacket and pants, some cigarettes and coffee to keep me awake, and came back home to shower, change and get ready. My brother and sister-in-law arrived around 5. We were to be "going out to dinner as a family" for this special occasion. We drank some wine and talked. My parents seemed happy and relaxed to be surrounded by their entire immediate family. At six we escorted them out the front door to a waiting limo. It was the first little surprise, and my parents were thrilled. The driver took us into Manhattan as we drank more wine, ate caviar, and talked. For almost an hour mom and dad were trying to guess where we were taking them as we zig-zagged through the streets of midtown Manhattan. Then, at 6:45, the driver pulled into the Lincoln Tunnel and we headed back to NJ. Mom and Dad were very off-guard by this point. At seven we pulled up at an Italian restaurant in Fairfield. I went inside to "check the reservation." Five minutes later mom and dad walked in and were shocked by 60 of their friends and relatives, some of whom had come all the way from Florida for the occasion. They were both crying with joy, and at that moment I knew all the hell of the trip out here had been worth it. The party was a huge success, and everyone had a great time, thanking me and my brother over and over again. Exhaustion began to set in again, and finally the night was over, we settled up the bill, and headed home. Today was thankfully relaxing. I hung out with Steve, my one remaining friend from high-school. We went shopping, got some drinks, and saw "The Klumps," which wasn't as good as the first movie. Tomorrow's work on Wall Street. I'm gonna take the train with the rest of the commuters ... not really looking forward to this Manhattan work-week.
In the forum: 29 july 1999: 49 : Speaking of celebrities, I saw Data from Star Trek at a sushi bar the other night. 30 july 1998: rant and revelation, reversed : Growing up, growing into myself, I exhausted inordinate amounts of energy trying to hide things from my parents. And now, there's nothing I won't tell them, nothing I feel uncomfortable saying to them.
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