Moments from the past month:
The travel around the world which begins on foot: A simple walk to the bus stop for a ride straight to sky harbor airport. I have lots of time as the Phoenix bus system is as reliable as sports teams.
Viewing the Dubai night skyline from the plane, and having my breath caught by the tallest structure ever built by man, the burj dubai, still under construction, soaring like a technological needle far above the skyscrapers around it, like an alien spike crashed into earth.
Arriving in Dubai after 26 hours of travel, and stuck inside the largest immigration line I’ve ever seen. Filled wall to wall with people from every corner of the earth, each speaking different languages, like I’d been transported back to Ellis Island at the turn of the century.
The frustrated resignation of knowing my bag had not made it all the way to Dubai, and the lengthy frustrations which would ensue upon the discovery of only ONE of my bags, and not the one with my clothes in it.
As I sat in the small lobby/office of the baggage services of Emirates Airlines, a massive older north african in a long white robe and a colorful hat sat down next to me. In my weariness and travel-addled brain, I realized something fundamental: Though we have led completely differnet lines, and our lives would diverge from this moment onward, we were both the same at this moment, tired and irritated that the airline had lost both of our luggage.
Good consversations with dad at Rotana Beach on Christmas eve, where we went out for some drinks on the cool clear night, surrounded by loud celebretory Brits. Followed by german sausages and more good beer nearby.
Dad, Tay and I cruising Abu Dhabi with all the windows down, blasting Rolling Stones, and enjoying the late afternoon. We were on the hunt for a particular tennis raquet…
Photo safari Abu Dhabi, with stops at the Palace Hotel, the corniche, Abu Dhabi Heritage Land, which was a disney vision of the history of the emirate, and the supermassive gleaming white mosque still under construction at the edge of the city.
Wandering through the million dollar exhibition of the architecture and future of the “cultural island” of Abu Dhabi with dad, playing architecture critic over huge models by Tado Ando, Jean Nouvel, Zaha Hadid, and Frank Gehry.
Setting up a quiet christmas tree, and hanging my little Prius ornament from home. The tree sat in a wicker basket, and we decorated it with bows, lights, and ornaments.
Three toasts, one from each of us, the father and the two sons, at Christmas Eve dinner.
Opening presents late Christmas morning.
A sad, 90 MPH cab ride back to Dubai at 3 AM to catch an early flight. The driver was an Indian who said he was working in Abu Dhabi and learned English for his passengers, and Arabic to understand his dispatcher, who was a national. He sends money to his family back in north India, and wonders what life is like in the United States.
Elation at a rapid passage through immigration in Phillidelphia turns to bitterness when I watch US Airways baggage handlers do nothing to take bags off the conveyer belts or at least stand luggage on end to make more room. People are hit repeated by bags which slide off the ramp and over the crammed full conveyer into the passengers waiting. Time and time again, logjammed bags are brutally folded in half and pinched between the luggage ramp and suitcases lodged in the full carousel.
Cold fury at US Airways, which again lost my luggage in Atlanta, turns to self-annoyance for missing the OTHER flight which came in at the same time from Frankfurt, which was not announced or displayed anywhere. Now, I have to run. Self-annoyance turns to anger and tension as I join the line for the TSA screening team evidently competeing simultaneously for the Slowest Team Award and the Least Competant.
Sprinting through Philidelphia airport to my gate, praying that my luggage makes the flight, and trying to not think of the huge repercussions if it doesn’t.
After I arrived, travel-stoned, in Phoenix from Philly, Sally met me and togather we waited at terminal 3 for mom to arrive. It was late, and the terminal was deserted, so we got coffee at a starbucks and played cards until mom’s plane arrived.
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Medium is the message
I moved the blog again. I deleted the Tumblr account and moved everything to Medium.com, a more writing-centric website. medium.com/@wende
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I moved the blog again. I deleted the Tumblr account and moved everything to Medium.com, a more writing-centric website. medium.com/@wende
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I started a new blog about being a dad. On tumblr. archdadpdx.tumblr.com
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I'm planning on ending this blog. Not with a big closeout with a lot of fanfare but just letting it go quietly dormant, until a few ye...
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