Foul Called for Traveling

9:00pm 4/29/10

We were supposed to depart ORD 20 minutes ago but we haven't even begun loading. No big deal, this happens all the time. Amy called and told me that there's a tornado watch with a wind advisory and severe thunderstorm warnings for the Omaha area until midnight. I'll hope for the best.

9:15pm

We're finally loaded and ready for takeoff. I can't wait to be home. I've been traveling for four hours already. I can make it another three. It's an hour and a half from ORD to OMA. I'll be a little later than I expected but no more than 30 minutes or so. I should be in my own bed by 11:30pm.

11:00pm

What's taking so long? I'm bored with my DS game and my butt is stiff and sore from sitting in the airplane seat. I can't wait to get off the plane. Maybe we just had to slow down with all this turbulence. It's the worst I've experienced.

11:30pm

We still haven't landed. What's the deal? The flight attendant is picking up the phone. She says that OMA is closed due to weather and we can no longer continue circling and waiting for a window because we're low on fuel. We're rerouting to Des Moines. I hope the Des Moines airport has a bar that's open if I'm going to be spending the night. Wait, Des Moines has an airport?

11:50pm

We've landed in Des Moines. Waiting on the plane for the captain to receive further instructions on whether we'll just refuel and head back to OMA or if we'll be stranded here. The air spewing from the vents is hot and it's starting to smell like fart in here.

12:00am 4/30/10

We're stranded. Sort of. They've instructed us to deplane and they're going to see what options are available for us. Everyone's phones are lighting up, calling loved ones or business contacts, informing them of our detour. Nobody is happy but nobody is unreasonable. It's just weather and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Might as well go with the flow.

They tell us that there will be no flights available from Des Moines to OMA. Not surprising really since Des Moines is only a two hour drive from Omaha. It took us only 20 minutes to fly here. The only other option for potential air travel, north through Minnesota then around the storm and into OMA from the west, has also now been closed to air traffic. They are contacting a charter bus service that will drive us to OMA tonight. Not really looking forward to a two hour bus ride but better that than being stranded in the Des Moines airport. There is NOTHING here. Next time Amy complains about Milwaukee, I'll remind her what Des Moines looks like.

There is NO activity here. We are the only people in the airport. They actually had to have security come and unlock some doors so that we could get to the terminal and outside for pickup. Everybody is waiting in the terminal for now. Some people have arranged hotel stays for the night and took a cab there. They're all together, part of some business trip. They're all dressed alike.

The only car rental facility that still has someone standing behind the counter won't rent a car to drive all the way to Omaha. Many have tried. All have failed. An airport employee has informed us that the charter bus is on its way and should be here in half an hour. Sigh. I'm looking at a 2:30am ETA at home now. That's okay. Better late than never. But still, I've been up since 4:30am CST and I'm really tired.

12:40am

My head is in my hands. Still waiting on the damn bus. Falling aslee... huh? It's here! It's going to be hard to drive home in the dark when I'm so tired like this. By the time everyone loads up and we're rolling, it's going to be at least 1:00am. Maybe I'll get some sleep on the bus.

1:15am

That took longer than expected. The Des Moines airport employees were nice and brought everyone something to drink. Unfortunately, it's sugary, caffeinated soda. I declined. Then they went back and got some water. I still declined. I'm going to be stuck on a bus for the next two hours and I don't want to have to pee. I haven't seen a bathroom since ORD but fortunately, I don't need to go.

The bus is rolling now. Hooray! The driver picks up the microphone and makes an announcement, "I know all you folks are tired and I feel bad about this, but I've already been to Omaha and back today. I'm all out of legal hours to drive the bus. We'll be heading to the northeast end of the city to pick up the driver that will take you to Omaha."

People begin to grumble or hand out mumbled, pointed verbal jabs. "Why didn't they just wait to send the bus with the right driver?" Who knows? At this point, we're all just a little tired and cranky but even though the jokes are a little barbed, people are still in relatively good spirits. Wait. Northeast? That's out of our way! Grumble grumble.

1:30am

We pull into a gas station parking lot. It's a QT with a Burger King next to it. The bus driver makes another announcement, "The driver that will take you to Omaha should be here in about 30 minutes. If you'd like to get something to eat, feel free to go grab something at the Burger King."

WTF! I don't want to eat Burger King food at 1:30 in the morning! I'm not really hungry and even if I was, that stuff would just sit like a lump on my stomach the whole way. And now we have to wait an additional half hour just to get this trip started. This is really getting ridiculous. I just want to be home already.

People are getting a little bit more disgusted but we're trying to laugh about it. Some have gone in to get something to eat. A couple people are taking pictures, presumably to share the experience through images later. I'm dreaming up a witty blog entry.

2:20am

The replacement driver is finally here! We've just started out on the road again, headed west thank God, but not after he and the other driver had a smoke, a nice long chat, and rummaged around in the baggage compartments below the bus to rearrange some stuff. We all realize that this guy was probably called out of bed to come do this and is probably just as unhappy about it as we are, but let's get a move on!

We're on I-80 now and the storm has reached Des Moines. Mile marker 127. Two hours to Omaha. There is a lot of rain coming down. People are joking about other things that could possibly delay us. "We're going to have to go 35 the whole way!"

"Or we'll speed and get caught by the police."

"We could always have a flat tire! Hahahaha!"

I'm sitting by myself so I have two full seats to stretch out on. I put my head down and try to doze.

2:45am???

I did sleep for a little bit but I woke up because the rain is so heavy. There's a pickup truck passing us on the right just a little close for my comfort. I wonder how fast we're traveling? I can't see any mile markers because of the rain.

KABLAM!!! The rear right corner of the bus dips.

Oh fuck no. That did not just happen. I spy a mile marker. Mile 79. It's only been about 40 minutes since we departed the parking lot. The bus lurches over to the side of the highway, stopped. People are waking up. Someone asks the guy next to me sarcastically, "Flat tire, huh?"

The driver gets out and goes back to look at the tire. Yep. Flat. He does some walking around outside and has a smoke. I wonder what's going to happen? I hope he makes some sort of announcement about a plan or how long it will take to fix this. If it's going to take over 90 minutes, Amy could come pick me up. We'd just need to have a neighbor hang out at the house while Nick sleeps or something. Ugh, that's too much trouble. I'm sure it won't take that long. Maybe an hour.

3:45am

We're still on the bus. No announcements have been made but nobody is asking many questions either. I think we all know we're being held hostage by fate. Nothing to be done. I feel like Godot. Who's Godot? There are color maps in the back. I'm tired. I haven't been able to sleep while the bus is stopped.

Two people behind me call an Omaha cab company to see what it would cost to have a cab come pick them up. $270 per person. They stay on the bus.

Finally, some lights pull up from behind us. The local sheriff and the bus repair guy. A handful of men and one woman jump up to go watch and get in the way. The men watch the tire being changed. The woman takes pictures. I keep dreaming up a witty blog entry.

4:20am

We're rolling again. Thank God. Only about an hour and twenty... why are we getting off at this exit in the middle of nowhere? We pull into another gas station parking lot. The driver gets off the bus. What now? I spot him talking with the bus repair guy over by the air pump. They talk for a while and shake hands. Bus Repair Guy drives away. The bus driver goes into the convenience mart. I rub my eyes and wish for this to be over. Nobody is talking or laughing anymore.

4:30am

I think about documentaries and movies that depict what it's like to ride on an Indian or a Columbian bus through the countryside. I should be thankful. This is nothing like that. I just want to be home now. I've been up for 24 hours straight now excepting my little doze a couple hours ago. I just... zzzzzzz

6:15am

It's light out! Wow, I have to pee. Haven't had access to a bathroom in several hours. Well, a proper bathroom, not that stinky hole in the back of the bus. I'll hold it.

6:30am

We arrive at OMA. Nobody says much. I step off the bus and feel like falling down and kissing the ground. I don't. We open the baggage compartments and start unloading bags as quickly as possible. I find mine and head into the terminal for a restroom. I'll be home by 7am.

FIN

This was a true story.

I Have No Mouth And I Must Eat

Trust me, I'd find a way. But I've finally had it. Again. I've never been a skinny person or athletic in any sense of the word, but in the past 10 years, my weight has yo-yo'd from about 215 pounds, about my size when I left high school, all the way to my recent all-time fatass record of 261 set last Sunday. I've dieted and exercised sporadically as my weight has fluctuated, losing 30 pounds in 2002, gaining it all back plus some in 2003 as I was jobless and depressed most of that year, then once I found a job in 2004 remaining fat and happy until 2006 when I tried the South Beach diet (and exercise), losing 25 pounds and then again putting it all back on plus some in 2007 and '08 when Amy became pregnant and had a pretty rough go of it. Then, with the new job in 2008 stressing me out on a daily basis, I've become addicted to junk food, rewarding myself for getting through a bad day or just eating because I had a good day and I felt happy. Everything became a reason to eat. It got to the point where I was hiding food because I was ashamed of my eating habits. That is just wrong. Plain wrong. No, wait, plain wrong is probably good for you. This is probably Twinkie-covered-in-chocolate-and-deep-fried wrong.

I am, here and now, putting my foot down publicly. No more. When I saw my weight above 260 last weekend, I realized that my problem is manageable with the right mindset and tools. I started off doing some easy aerobic exercise on a daily basis, about 30 minutes a day, EVERY day. Nothing too strenuous but just something to get me off my giant ass. Knowing that that is not enough, I've also decided to start keeping a record of my exercise progress and caloric intake at MyFitnessPal.com. If anyone that reads this would like to join in with me, for your sake or mine (dieting alone sucks major balls not to mention the inevitable denial of my brains pleasure and reward centers), please look me up there and friend me. My username is DrRosenRosen. I will see you in a year and hopefully will have lost a good portion of the 60 pounds that I need to lose. I know I can do this. My biggest hurdles will be the psychological, emotional and behavioral issues I have with food. A lifetime of learning poor eating habits is a hard thing to break.

The Knife

One of the things the Midwest does absolutely right is thunderstorms. It wasn't raining overhead last night but as we sat on the deck we could see lightning arcing through the clouds. They were huge billowy things with sporadic windows that occasionally allowed us to view the long, crackling tendrils of electricity as it cut them apart. Diffused and behind the clouds, the lightning made the sky looked war-like, silent explosions of light punctuating the darkness, but through those windows the lightning became a sleek knife, edgy and brutal. None of the strikes were hitting the ground. They were only completing some unseen airborne circuit.

The Toothpick

Between my grandmother and Al Jaffee, I've been heavily influenced to be a snarky bastard. Sometimes I just can't keep my mouth shut. Case in point, yesterday evening. Amy and I went to a short seminar at the local children's hospital on how to deal with our two year old. They even give you a small sack lunch for dinner that includes a cold turkey sandwich. The sandwich isn't great, it's a slice of american cheese on a pile of turkey between two slices of bread, but want do want for a free dinner at the hospital?

Anyway, for whatever reason, they put a single toothpick in each of the sandwiches. One of the helpful hospital attendants greeted me when we showed up and made a very distinct point of telling me to be careful of the toothpick. Being polite, I thanked him for the warning and tried to continue on my way. He persisted. "Sometimes it's kind of hidden so do make sure you take the toothpick out."

"Well, if I forget it's a good thing I'm at a hospital!", I replied jokingly.

He didn't really know how to take that and seemed a little dazed. I really wasn't trying to be mean or snarky, though. He said something about the hospital not being in the business of injuring people and then proceeded to offer to take the toothpick out of my sandwich for me. I turned him down stating that I could probably handle the toothpick on my own. It was one of the more surreal moments I've experienced recently.