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Posts Tagged ‘luggage’

I love to travel, well actually I just love to be “there,”  wherever there is.  I am not a fan of the ‘getting there’ part.  I used to travel, marketing my artwork, cross country by car: sleeping in the van, shampooing in rest stops.  Now, I am opting for some type of teleporting transportation.  Come on, Obama, get us high speed trains.

Okay, we have airplanes and I do so love to take off in an airplane, but, as I have stated before, I hate being trapped in a steel tube.  It’s just not fun once you have been through lift off.   I’m not deathly afraid of plane wrecks, even though I have been in a plane that “lost” it’s engine.  The Lost Engine to Hawaii – Part three « Savanvleck’s Weblog

I am not sure whether I wrote about our overabundance of luggage on that trip and I am too lazy, obviously, to read all ?five? posts about Hawaii to see.  So, I will quickly recap what might not have been caped at all to begin with.

It was my mother’s dream trip and I got to ride along.  She found sets of luggage and purchased each of us a set.  They each had a large bag on wheels and a small bag that was eitheron wheels or I could strap over the handle of the large bag,  and then some little bags to put inside.  Me, not thinking (what’s new you say!) that mom was getting weaker already at that point and I would have to do all the tugging of luggage. 

Oahu one was no problem.  We got to our hotel and that was it for the week.  By the time we took Hawaiian Air to the second island, I had definitely had my fill of pulling four suitcases.  Why didn’t the travel agent mention there were laundries in most of the hotels.  Obviously, I am not a world traveler.  What I am, is an overpacker.  So, the next morning, on the Big Island, I drove our rental car to a post office, purchased two boxes and went out to the car and filled them up with clothing we were not going to wear.

It helped a lot, cost as much as one plane ticket and we received our clothing back about a month after we landed back on the mainland. 

Crazy Aunt Purl tells us how she travels light.  This is what I want to do, if and when I fly again.

Shortly after our Hawaiian trip, I cut out an article on how to travel light.  It is somewhere.  As I remember, you can fit two pair of dress slacks, one skirt, one basic black dress, a few bits of underwear, a one-piece bathing suit (with the right type of top to it), and a sweater, all in basic black and tan, along with four knit shirts in brighter colors and make yourself four hundred and twelve different outfits.  Or something like that.  You bring a pair of sandals that do duty as slippers and shower shoes and, if they are sparkly enough, evening shoes and you’ve got it made.

Me, I’m opting for wearing hiking boots, blue jeans, tshirt, over shirt, sweater and jacket on the plane.  I am padded enough for a minor wreck and warm enough when we hit 20,000 feet after leaving tropical Hawaii., that I will still be warm  And, I can probably find a way to stretch my wardrobe to five hundred outfits with it.

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I found my Hawaii trip book. While we were on the trip, I kept a journal of the interesting things that happened. When we got home, I had some spare time and made a Hawaii trip book. I was teaching art to homeschoolers; with the Casper Area Christian Home Educators and we were going to create some books, so my excuse was education.

 

But, I now digress, as if I don’t all the time, to insert some illustrations, make corrections and add a few forgotten items. 

 

  

 

The illustration(and photo)above, on the left, is Robert. I think it is too small to see, but he’s waving out of the pinkish van. Robert was a cute little bowlegged two year old (not four), who had fallen in love with my mother. Mostly, all he could say was “Wa at?” (This meant “What’s that?”) He was a curious little boy with bananas and pop tarts and a buzzing raspberry noise, that sprayed juice on everything, every time a car passed by.

 

When the van arrived in Douglas, Wyoming, we were transferred to a small bus and eventually large bus. In Denver, we purchased tickets for yet another bus to take us to the airport and were told it would leave in ten minutes. Four requests, and an hour and a half later, I again inquired as to when it was actually coming. We were told that the bus had left the bus barn and not been heard nor seen since. They did not seem too concerned over losing a bus. I guess it happens frequently.

 

They did pay for mom, myself and a German law student, to cram into the back of a cab, with our luggage. I was afraid to ask what the cab driver had in the trunk that took up all the room, necessitating us to hold our luggage.

 

The illustration above (picture on right) makes us seem like we are merrily singing on our way, but we were NOT. Screaming, yes. Singing, no. Trust me on this. We were white knuckled as we pray for our lives in this 90mph wild ride to the airport.

 

Mom and I then called the motel to get our ride from the airport. When we arrived at the motel, we were met with stunned silence upon learning that we had to be at the airport at 3:30 am. Bless his heart, the poor driver who took us, from airport to motel, offered to take us back in the wee hours of the morning.

 

Mom’s luggage was flagged to be checked at the airport in Denver and she was hauled off to a private room to watch her undies being pawed. We were never sure what contraband she carried, but we think a little odd folding flashlight may have been deemed dangerous. I insisted all my rolls of film be checked by hand and they were NOT happy with that either. This was before 9/11 and I found it hilarious, later in the trip, when I set off one of the airport security machines in Hawaii. They stopped me from emptying my pockets, and turned their machine off before waving me through, unchecked, stating it was probably just my hair clip.

 

 

The plane was worse than riding the bus or taxi. I’m not a big fan of flying. It is crowded, claustrophobic and boring.  I still had bacterial bronchitis and was on some heavy duty medicine, so every time the plane banked, rose, dropped or moved, I had intense vertigo. That lasted for one hour, 23 minutes and 16 seconds, until we landed in Salt Lake City. The next plane was larger and either, I adjusted, or it was a smoother ride, because the vertigo stopped and two hours later we landed at LAX.

 

Mom being a small town girl and not having worked in Chicago for many years as I did, never learned “street” rules and big city eye avoidment. So, a “friendly” man followed us around the airport in the early morning hours until we caught our plane for Hawaii. She was a bit nervous about this. My response was, “I told you not to look him in the eye.” I’m not at my best when I have to go through two 6am’s in one morning.

 

We had our first Hawaii touchdown in Maui. It was a short lay over so a group of us stood out on the lanai and breathed in our first breath of tropical air. It is heaven on earth. I was ready to put down roots and still dream about it. I wanted to call home and tell them to sell everything, ‘cause I was staying.

 

The air smelled with a delicate scent of flowers and the temperature was perfect. It is like being enveloped in a perfect cloud; not too hot, nor too cold, not too dry, nor too wet.

 

Tomorrow: The little plane that couldn’t, Our lower floor reserved room on the 16th floor, and being kidnapped by Pleasant Hawaiian with one pat of butter and no water refills.

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When mom took me on her dream trip to Hawaii, a few years back, she wanted lots of Hula watching, lots of luaus and lots of scenery. What we got was a bacterial/viral infection, too much luggage, a banana spitting boy, food from TGIF, and credit card fraud. A good time was had by all.

 

First, we packed way too much stuff. I will plan ahead with coordinating clothing to make sixteen outfits from three separates. I have heard it can be done. Did you know that it takes your clothing, sent USPS, a month longer to get home, than you will?

 

Second, I had a ball planning our vacation, but when I took our desires, like how many days per island, etc, to our travel agent, she had her own ideas. And, when we got home, we found out she had also supplied several other customers with trips on mom’s credit card. She won a two year complimentary stay in the state facility, all expenses paid.

 

Okay, what part of my brain actually thought it would be fun to take the bus from Casper to Denver, rather than being driven in a car? “It will be an adventure.” I so foolishly said. First, the BUS does not do that drive. Instead, you take a van, packed with people and one little banana eating boy.

 

I have mentioned my mom’s proclivities toward, shall I say, obsessive compulsive neatness, on my blog. The first leg of our trip was a van ride from Casper, Wyoming to Glenrock. On the van, an adorable little toddler took quite a liking to this grandmotherly lady.

 

He kneeled on the seat in front of her and proceeded to eat his banana while fondling mom’s cane. It took twelve wet wipes to clean that up. I mean, I would not have been happy but she actually took it all in good sport. He got quite excited when cars would pass us and did one of those buzzing, with tongue out things, spitting banana juice to make a car noise, every single time. Mom got quite a banana bath on that one.

 

After stopping at every three house town between Casper and Denver, we arrived in Denver, and waited and waited for the bus to take us to the airport. It was finally reported that the bus did indeed leave the station this morning but they had no idea where it was. Now, I would have been concerned about losing a million dollar Greyhound bus, but they took it in stride and told us they were paying for a taxi ride, for four weary travelers, to get to the airport. Mom, I and two others piled into the cab for the Wild Ride of Mr. Toad.

 

There was so much luggage that it was smothered our laps and jammed our legs. The upside was that it did serve to keep us in our seats as the cab driver drove 100+ miles per hour, weaving in and out of traffic, to get the girl in the back with us to the airport in time for her flight. Mom didn’t even mind the plane after that cab ride.

 

Next installment: The infection that refused to leave, homeless in San Francisco, TGIF

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