Through a storm with many memories and no money

Ever travel without your wallet?

Ever feel so out of sorts that you’re not sure what you are experiencing is real or a dream?

Ever flown on a plane attempting with side-winds topping at nearly 100 mph?

The last couple of days have been (a) without my wallet, (b) at times been a bit surreal, and (c) had some pretty gnarly wind storms. It started early Thursday morning and ended last night, with lots of plane hopping to, in and from California. Sandwiched in the middle was a day packed with family memories and emotional outpouring. It was good, passing too quickly (time with family) and lasting too long (time on a plane) all at once.

Thursday morning at 2:45am I woke up, showered and headed out the door to PDX, catching a plane to Los Angeles for my step-grandmothers funeral. She died the morning of Dec. 26th at the age of 93. Dorothy lived a full life, and the last five years were especially. In fact, unbeknownst to us (and her), God was especially gracious in how she had so much time with family in the last two months. We spend the afternoon with her on the 23rd, and she enjoyed snuggling with Dutch, her only great-grandson, aka “the baby.” It was like a kiss goodbye.

My Mom and step-dad picked me up at LAX, with other family in two, and we headed to the memorial grounds. It was a great gathering of her one son (my step-dad) and his two grown kids, their daughters (my nieces), and other family and friends. Dorothy moved up to Oregon five years ago, so she had strong ties to SoCal, her home for almost six decades. At the funeral I was privileged to be able to speak about Dorothy for my parents and speak of the character of God, expressly from Psalm 23. I read the memories of my step-dad about his beloved mom and we all cried and laughed as I and others spoke. As we grieved and continue to miss her, I can sense God’s presence and abiding comfort mixing our sorrow with His joy. I resolve to learn better how to grieve well, to allow my soul to feel the full blessing of pouring my soul out to God and knowing His comfort as our Shepherd.

Then Thursday night we gathered as a family at my step-brother’s home to simply be together, eat dinner and reminisce about grandma and catch up on one another’s lives. It’s amazing the patience and contentedness evident in times like that. No agenda, no hurrying through the moment, but true authentic family time, brought on through a crisis. A sandwich that night was the first meal I had since Kari’s usually incredible cooking the night before. I even drank California water from the tap (!). The day had sort of been a blur, and that night was was almost too tired I could hardly sleep. That ever happen to you?

My flight Friday morning was to be Southwest 178 out of Burbank at 7am, stopping in Sacramento and then switching planes to get back to PDX at about 10:30am. So I hopped out of bed before five, and my step-brother gave me a ride to the little Burbank airport. My only water bottle was confiscated at the security checkpoint (doh!), but I didn’t care because in a few short hours I’d land back in Oregon and be able to drive home to Kari and Dutch. Our plane was delayed about 40 minutes, so making the connection in Sacto looked to be iffy at best. Then the torrential downfall hit northern and central California and our travel plans were diverted. (See the storm images below; click on any to enlarge.)

The plane attempted to land in Sacto, but was we were only a few hundred feet from touching down all of a sudden the runway moved out from under us. The side-winds were howling (reports reveal them to be record winds been between 40-80 mph inland, topping the century mark at the coast; see images above, click to enlarge). They were pushing our little plane at will. At the last minute our pilot pulled up and we ascended back to 10,000 feet. Scott the pilot finally hopped on the horn and gave us the scoop. He did the right thing, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to attempt to land a second time in Sacto. For the next few hours truly, our pilots and three attendants were extraordinary. Could have brought some more peanuts and pretzels, but they did all they could with limited resources.

It was obvious (by the ridiculousness of the whole situation and decision-making) that the higher-ups for Southwest sitting in some skyscraper in Dallas were rolling dice as to our next plans. They obviously really wanted the plane to get to Sacto, but that was a silly proposition by almost all accounts at this point (the airport there was closed). Why didn’t we simply go back to Burbank after we refueled in Fresno? I don’t know, but the flight crew knew only slightly more than we did in the cabin. They handled it well and remained positive. Our captain spend most of his time in the back talking with all of us, answering questions, and answering his cell phone, the only method of communication with the higher-ups (see pic above right). Thus our plans changed about every hour, and the “options” were slim to none. Okay, none. Southwest could not be to blame for the weather, and certainly they got me home. I may write a letter commending the captain and his crew, while noting some less than exemplary customer service at the counters inside the airports (can I get a meal voucher?), and ask for a little help for those who endured their indecision (I might not write the critical remarks, see the next paragraph…). We ended going with Option C (or was it Z?), landing in San Jose, with plenty of wind resistance. A bunch of us where headed north to Portland and Seattle and this option actually made our final leg more readily possible, although landing in the Bay Area in the midst of a storm was a bit wearisome. I hope the bus that took those seeking Sacramento as a final destination came together, and those who simply wanted to get back to Burbank thanked God for His goodness nonetheless (nothing like a 12-hour Burbank-Burbank round-trip without meals and not really going anywhere!).

One ironic twist is that while I was on the (first) plane yesterday I was reading a book entitled Humility: True Greatness. Thank God for His perspective, because without a submissive attitude I likely would have sat their complaining and muttering under my breath about the delays. It was like a living parable on the practical level of the content I was engaging with my mind theoretically. In reality the whole experience was not all that bad. Sure we sat there in Fresno for over four hours (unable to get off the plane), the announced plans changed at least once every hour, my cell phone died, the battery on my laptop drained to zero, we ate and drank everything on the plane, and the bathroom was a bit overwhelmed. But, I am thankful for the maturity and humorous outlook of my fellow travelers on flight 178 and the use of my next-seat neighbor Steve’s cell phone.

I conclude that people who travel Southwest have in general a different outlook on travel obstacles than those who tend to fly first-class. For example, in talking with Steve, he noted that his wife had a layover at the moment in Hawaii, as a flight attendant with Delta. I candidly asked him what he thought would happen if one of her Delta planes had the same things happen. He shook his head and laughed, noting it would be a scary sight, lots of tension amongst the passengers, and he didn’t think the people would stay very contented for too long just sitting there with no news, plans and little food. The flight crew would have some complaining people on their hands. Could I perhaps say there may be a difference in expectations between a person who paid $77 for a one-way ticket on coach-class Southwest and the one who paid $500 or more for a first-class Delta fare? Pardon my over-generalization, but I think it fits.

Funny thing happened about an hour later: a Delta plane landed next to us and parked out in the middle of nowhere right next to us. Our pilot even made a pretty comical joke about the competition, all in good taste, after we had been there at least four hours and they had waited an hour.

Did I mention I forgot my wallet in my car back in Portland? All I had was my ID and some cash loaned by my parents for the trip back north just in case I needed it. Certainly needed it for my first “meal” of the day at about 4pm: a bagel and cream cheese for five bucks.

When I landed back at PDX we all applauded, and then I walked through the concourse with my laptop open and emailed Kari to tell her I’d landed (remember, dead mobile phone). I caught the bus to economy parking, hoping my wallet was still in my car. It was, wedged between the driver’s seat and the console. Thank You, Jesus.

Since one of the themes from grandma Dorothy’s funeral was on the importance of little silly events in marking our memories as they shape our lives, the rest of my travels seemed appropriate. I’ll never forget the 13+ hour flight from Burbank to Portland.