June 1 -- 7:15 A,M Ginger drives me to the airport, PHX Terminal 3 for Delta. I wait at the counter and check my bag for the hold, my gold 50L Golite backpack, that is ultralight. Light as. feather but sturdy, I am sure. I've had it for years and never really used it. GoLite was a Colorado e-commerce company founded in 2010 Boulder and did well before going bankrupt from overexpansion into brick and mortar (which by the laws of retail forced them into becoming an outlet for women's apparel, and away from the hardcore ultralight enthusiast core of their original business. Now it is time for that old purchase of mine, from the heydey of the company, to shine. Before checking it in, I pull all the straps as tight as possible, and buckle the small horizonal straps in reverse way to hold the big straps down to the back like.a bundle. Attached to it is an old REI screw-on luggage tag that I have had for many years, and inside the little plastic window is a card with my name, phone number, and my Scottsdale address.
I have plenty of time before takeoff, over an hour. I listen to some downloaded videos on my iPad with my noise-canceling headphones.These are things. didn't have when I started taking a backpack over to Europe. I carry the iPad, headphones, and other necessary gear, including my Macbook (which I do not want to check into my backpack), inside my old plum-colored REI Flashpack, which has served me so well. Insidce the inner pouches are my passport, other necessaries, and spare contact lenses These are all the things which I do not want to leave my person. I have to go on the assumption that my backpack will disappear in flight and not show for days in Europe, if at all. What I carry in the Flashpack is like the command module of a spaceflight. The rest can be lost and the mission can continue. But I do not want my GoLite to get lost. It would be a big hassle and no fun. It's simply a matter of thinking worst case scenario.
In the Phoenix Aiport, after going through security, I purchase a bottle of Smartwater and and a sandwhich to have on the flight. We leave JFK on time. Window seat. Arrived in JFK after 5 hour flight. Changed terminals to another one using a shuttle bus across the tarmac, Storm clouds and light rain in the last light of evening. Found gate for evening flight to Zurich. Bought and ate two slices of pizza at a walk up place next to the gate. Found myself enjoying remembering the proper way to order pizza in New York, using the brisk shorthand that New Yorkers do for such interaction, which is not rude, but considered polite, because it wastes as little of the time of both parties to the interaction. Wondered if I'd overeaten, given that food would be served on board for dinner. Boarded fight on time. Window seat in exit row in economy on the right. Traded a view being blocked by the wing for the extra legroom, which I wanted for the trans-Atlantic night flight. To my delight, the other seat remains empty. I will have the row to myself. It is right next to the mid-cabin restrooms, which I know will be both good and bad (given the traffic). I decide it is a net plus, to be able to stand up and use the restroom whenever I am inclined to, and when it is empty.
All looks well. Then we wait. And we wait. We are still at the gate. A massive thunderstorm system has hit JFK. Pilot warns it may be awhile. I use my iPhone to look at the weather radar. A massive system of storms is stretching all the way across the Catskills into the western New York as far as Lake Ontario. It is moving southeast and the front edge has just passed over JFK. Indeed it's going to be a while. As the hours add up at the gate, I begin hoping that we will stay on the plane and depart, even if we wait all night to take off. Please do not cancel the plane, or make us get off. We wait so long that by law they are required to let us off the plane. Finally after four hours, with the local time almost Midnight, the pilot announces departure. At this point I am glad I had the two slices of pizza. I think about my golden GoLite, and hoping it made into the hold. I think about something I wrote in a spiral bound journal, as the first entry in it, 37 years ago, almost to the day, whie sitting in a departure lounge at the same airport I just left: I feel like I've swallowed a tub full of eels.
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