4am: The alarm sounds. We are going to California today to celebrate Christmas with daughters and friends.
5am: We leave the house. It’s dark, there are seven inches of snow on the ground, and black ice lurks on the neighborhood streets but clear sailing on the highways.
6am: We are first in line at the American Airlines counter at the super-convenient Appleton airport, and the customer at the desk in front of us cannot communicate in English. She is flying alone, and I imagine how frightened she must be.
7am: We are at our gate and learn there are thirty passengers on our small plane to Chicago. A passenger is asked to switch rows for proper weight distribution. This is not an encouraging announcement.
8:31am: We land safely and early at O’Hare, where I proceed to lead us the wrong direction for our connecting flight. Jody makes a remark that in certain cultures might be referred to as “snide.”
9:05am: While waiting to board, I notice a child screaming for a bagel, apparently unfazed by reports of Santa’s all-seeing eyes.
9:17am: I am on the jet bridge and notice Bagel Kid behind me! I start softly humming the “sees-you-when-you’re-sleeping-knows-when-you’re-awake” portion of the song as a subliminal ploy.
9:30am: We are seated and situated on the plane, and Bagel Kid thankfully migrates to the back of the plane. A different child directly behind us seems cute, not desperate for bagels. Her name is clearly Bianca, and she pronounces “tall building” as “taw bill-dwing.” Adorable.
9:40am: It is announced that an untagged black bag was left on the jet bridge. I suddenly wish that I hadn’t watched the terrifying movie “Carry On” recently.
9:41am: We are all asked to pay close attention to the safety demonstration. We completely fail this thoughtful and simple request. Grateful that the flight attendant does not appear to be insulted.
9:45am: Jody is prepared with snack options and ear buds and movies to watch on her phone. I, on the other hand, am unprepared and decide to observe everything for the next three hours and forty-nine minutes of flight time. I did bring one snack, and I start doing rationing math on when to eat it.
9:53am: I notice a dog two rows ahead on the opposite aisle. The dog has a strikingly similar hairstyle to its owner, albeit different colors.
10:01am: We are taxiing for takeoff. I suspect that Bianca learned to talk early, given the thirty-one minutes we’ve been together
10:03am: We take off.
10:22am: I am already bored. I begin reading the flight information brochure. Under health information, it begins, “Before traveling, talk to your doctor about any concerns.” This seems a bit late to share such helpful advice. I also read about a terrifying blood clot that can kill you during flight.
10:24am: I put away the flight information brochure.
10:30am: A flight attendant uses tongs to serve and collect tiny washcloths to those seated in first class — the dog and I find this wildly entertaining.
11:01am: I eat my snack. Only two hours and fifty-one minutes to go!
11:03am: The snack and drink cart comes and goes, and I notice that the dog owner shares her water and Biscoff cookies with her dog. They are apparently very close.
11:09am: I have secretly been counting the number of people who have unwittingly placed their butt next to the dog’s face while standing in the aisle. We are up to four. The dog has repeatedly refused to sniff. On each occasion the dog has looked away, appearing demure. Impressive.
11:17am: A young father takes his baby to the lavatory to change a diaper. I don’t think I have that level of talent, to change a dirty diaper in an airplane lavatory. I also decide never to go into that particular lavatory.
11:21am: The dad emerges. I conclude that he must lead a NASCAR pit crew. I consider giving a high five but decline for sanitary reasons.
11:23am: Bianca starts saying “I need help” over and over again. She is a little less adorable now.
12:06pm: I must have dozed off for a while. That was helpful.
12:07pm: It occurs to me that I haven’t heard Bagel Kid scream once during the entire trip. I suspect drugs. Or possibly delicious bagels.
12:20pm: No butt-sniff number five! And this unsuspecting gentleman could be involved in the plumbing profession. The dog’s self-control is outstanding. I suspect this good dog would not have eaten its one snack so early on a long flight.
12:28pm: Unfortunately, I have now had a couple of butts stuck in my own face. Followed the dog’s lead: I looked away, unimpressed.
12:52pm: Jody lets me borrow a snack.
12:55pm: I could use a tiny washcloth.
12:59pm: Bianca has been strangely quiet for a very long time. More drug suspicions.
1:24pm: We begin our descent to the City of Angels.
1:52pm: We land safely at LAX, where it is actually 11:52am. I find myself truly hoping that Bagel Kid, Bianca, and the well-behaved dog each enjoy the merriest of Christmases.
12:45pm (PST): Erica greets us at the crazy busy airport. Our checked bag actually arrives. Breakfast in Wisconsin, lunch in Los Angeles. All things considered, a Christmas miracle.
Tomorrow, we take a road trip to Northern California. I wonder what adventures that will bring?!
On this Christmas Eve, I share with you the Prologue to Howard Thurman’s wonderful little book, “The Mood of Christmas.”
There is much on my mind this Christmas Day, including the great joy to have my little family together and the deep sorrow for friends experiencing great loss, and my best response is to share three short poems from Howard Thurman’s “The Mood of Christmas” — a unity in trinity:
Like any good American, I went to jail the day after Christmas. Well, maybe it was a strange thing to do. My youngest daughter, a college sophomore, crawled out of bed on a Monday morning to join me because she just might share my unconventional approach to interesting holiday activities. But you have to give us the “interesting” at least. When our host asked his colleague at the beginning of our tour if an older gentleman escorted past us was the murder suspect, we were pretty sure we weren’t returning gifts to Macy’s.
Starting to Look Up 