I'm leeeeeaving on a Jet Plane/Don't know when I'll be back again

Yeah, I do. Lickety split. This is an in to town, meeting all day, back out of town deal. Even so I Chris had to practically shove me out of the truck at the airport. I've just lost my . . . ovaries, when it comes to flying. And 48 hours away from the kids seems like eternity. I don't know what I'll do this summer when Max and I hitchhike across the country to get to my sister's wedding.

I have dropped out. I write with a pink pen, wear my hair in a ponytail, and the security guy speaks condescendingly to me because I don't know the routine at the State College airport. We don't have cellphones anymore. We don't have cable, so I only know what I read of the world--and we don't get the paper, so we only know headlines.

I have to go to Chicago for a meeting that takes place tomorrow. It occured to me yesterday that my jeans/t-shirt combo wouldn't cut it--and my black velvet skirt and white blouse winter church "uniform" would look too, Amish for this crowd. So I dug through my closet and found three possibilities. All jumpers (none denim, Sarah). The first is a bright yellow jumper in a light cotton fabric. The second is a loose gray jumper in a heavier cotton fabric. The third is a navy blue jumper in a medium-weight fabric. I would freeze in the yellow. The gray is probably 10 years old. Chris hates it. I haven't wanted to let it go because once it was kind of dressy and it always fit no matter what my size. But looking at it yesterday, I had to admit that it has faded, the fabric looks worn, and is is finally too big. So I packed the blue with some tights for warmth and will hope for the best.

I am not happy about flying. I loved flying as a kid--really until Max was born. I realized it had all changed when Max was 15 months old and we flew together for the first time out to Michigan together to see family. He spent the 4-hr red eye flight wide awake and pacing the aisles with me visualizing the thousands of ways I would save him if the plane blew up. This was long before 9/11.

It hasn't gotten any better. I brought my knitting. It meant I had to check a bag but sacrifices must be made. The Delta employee checking me in sympathised and said, "I'm a knitter, too." She asked what I was working on. "Just dishclothes, " I said. "I don't want to have to pay attention." She laughed and said, "That's my on-flight knitting, too. Scarves and dishcloths." It did make me feel a little better.

In the end the first flight ended up being the entertainment portion of the trip the steward--a stocky late 20-something--was a regular standup comedian. After declaring our destination to be Honolulu, HI, with a stopover in Cincinnati, OH, he said, "This is a highly technical piece of equipment--you might want to pay attention." he said before giving the funniest demonstration of how to use the seatbelt I've ever seen. He then asked, "Anyone need me to demonstrate that again?" The whole plane raised their hands--then laughed.

For the 60-minute flight to the Cincinnati airport armpit of the Universe, he promised us lobster, steak, and peanuts although he suggested we allow the lobster and steak more time for preparation.

It almost made up for the fact that the landing in that puddlejumper had me gripping my armrest and PRAYING tha when I threw up it would be IN the bag. In CinCin I bought dramamine, only to have the gal behind me warm me that it would knock me out.

Well, poop.

I would ordinarily chance it but I knew that I'd be meeting an old friend/boss for dinner and it would be unkind of me to ruin his dinner by drooling on my plate. So I stopped by the nice sit-down restaurant and begged crackers. Maybe I looked green, or pregnant, because she ran to get them. I was still sucking on the peppermint that DELTA had given me on the last flight.

At the next gate I asked if I could move up front because I'd heard there was less turbulence. Well, no, but he could give me a seat with noone else in the row and noone in front of me and noone behind (apparently January 5 is not a big flight day) so I could puke in peace. I took it.

In the end the flight was fine thanks to the crackers.

When I got to Chicago I found my bag and then it slowly dawned on me that I knew neither how I should get to my hotel or exactly where it was. I kind of vaguely remembered that Evanston is more of a suburb than actually Chicago and I had a hunch that O'Hare wasn't in Evanston. But O'Hare is some SERIOUS real estate and if you walk far enough you can get anywhere. So I decided to try the shuttle. It was about a mile from the baggage claim to the shuttle area and I was grateful for my tendency to pack lightly. But there was no shuttle to where I was going. I was however able to get a map and some good advice. I learned that I could pay $35 to take a cab to Evanston or I could pay $2 to take the "L". The "L" would be a two-hour ride. I looked at the clock. 3:00 pm. I knew that the person I was meeting for dinner wouldn't even get off the plane until 6:30 pm.

The L station was one floor down and about 50 feet to the right. I got some change and bought a ticket and gpt on the train. I put on my headphones and caught up on Dave Ramsey shows and listened to the next hour of my audio book -- which I am really enjoying and highly recommend. I had to change lines downtown, but that wasn't too complicated. Everything was relatively clean (I mean, compared to New York or Boston) and well marked. I ran into one weirdo -- but a benevolent weirdo. He held the door open for me and then talked my ear off for the next ten minutes before parting ways. Every other human being was nice to the obviously-not-from-around-here girl. The second train was faster and there was a lot more swaying. I turned the mp3 player to classical and after 20 minutes began to really fear that I was going to puke all over the wrong person's shoes, so I took half a dose of dramamine, all the while thinking it wouldn't help anyway because the label said that I should take it 30 minutes to an hour before traveling.

Apparently that's not as important if you've been to nauseated to eat anything since breakfast. The chewable tablet must have gone straight to my bloodstream because five minutes later I was feeling like I could at least sit up straight and I was feeling almost okay by the time I got to my station. I did not throw up after all.

The security guard at the station gave me clear directions and I found the hotel only a block from the station. So, it took a little bit of walking, and a lot more time, but it was definitely worth saving $33 by taking the train.

I checked in and ran up to my room to call home. I talked to everyone, changed clothes, ran to the treadmill to walk, walked 35 minutes, ran back upstairs, showered and changed, and was just about to go find a vending machine when the phone rang. We found a great Mexican place, caught up on five years of news and gossip, exchanged photos of our kids, tried some seriously funky new food (and awesome guac), and walked back to the hotel.

Then, I worked.

And now, it is 12:33 (or 1:33 in PA) and I am off to bed.