No More 2-Year Olds on the Trampoline

Tuesday the kids were bouncing on the trampoline and Jack-Jack began to cry. Not an unusual occurrence, except he wouldn’t stop. He was holding his right leg and couldn’t walk. It didn’t take long to realize that there was something seriously wrong. I set up a doctor appointment and Annette took him in. After trips to the doctor’s office, the radiology lab and the emergency room, it was determined that he had broken his femur.

Once Mr. Tickle and Wiz-Kid were put to bed I drove to the hospital to hear the final instructions and then helped strap Jack-Jack in to the back seat of our Caravan—lying down. No use for the car-seat for the next while. Before meeting them there I did some research on the internet. I found that breaking a thighbone is not uncommon in 2-3-year-olds because at this age the bones are still hardening. My guess is he was coming down just after Mr. Tickle bounced up and so caught up-spring of the mat. I also found out that an estimated 80% of these breaks are a result of abuse, and so we could expect a visit from Child Welfare (they stopped by yesterday—no problems). Most 2-year-olds get spica casts—a body cast from the lower chest to the ankle—and keep it for 2-3 months. No fun for Jack-Jack and no fun for his Mom (and Dad).

Our experience so far has been a little different. Jack-Jack was given a splint instead. It covers the same length as the spica cast but is held in place with Ace bandages and so is much lighter. It also appears that he may only need this for as little as a month, although I’m planning on it lasting longer. Two days later he’s starting to sleep better (he didn’t react well to the Tylenol/Codeine mix) and he’s being a real trooper about not being able to get around. He’s watching a fair amount of TV but we also take him downstairs to the playroom and play with him. This morning we built Legos together and yesterday he played cars and other games with us and his brothers and sisters.

Naturally everyone has been concerned about him, especially Wiz-Kid. Each child has been very helpful and attentive, which really helps. Meanwhile Annette is “sleeping” in the same room with him. The first night he maybe slept 40 minutes—he was prone to muscle spasms that would jerk him awake (apparently normal according to the doctor) and he would cry. Needless to say, yesterday was hard for her. She ended up finding a sub for both work and Pack Meeting (she’s the Cubmaster). Last night was better for both of them and hopefully in the next few days he’ll be sleeping normally.

Yes, it’s a trial and a challenge, but at the same time there are some definite blessings. If we had to choose a time for Jack-Jack to break a leg, this is about as good as we could have planned. I’m off until next Tuesday, so I’m around to help. Next week, of course, is Thanksgiving, so Annette will only need to work one day with me gone, if that. Hopefully my parents or someone else will be able to help the days that I’m flying. And as for Jack-Jack, being two he’s still pretty light and much easier to carry around than, say, Mr. Tickle, let alone Wiz-Kid. So when we’re not feeling the effects of sleep deprivation we’re counting our blessings. This could have been so much harder.

Oh—and no more 2-year-olds on the trampoline.

Perks of Being an Airline Pilot

• All the peanuts and soda you want! (or water in my case)



• You know your bag made it on the flight.



• The view from your office window can’t be beat!



• Lots of time to read while commuting to work (I’ve read 20+ books this year).



• Plenty of free shampoo, conditioner and soap from the hotels (not to mention mouthwash, shower caps and sewing kits).



• I never have to worry about what I’ll wear to work.



• Free reading material—whatever the passengers or other pilots left on the airplane.



• Virtually free travel nearly anywhere—as long as there are empty seats.

Our Best Weekend Trip Ever

Ever since I first heard about Legoland in Denmark when I was a kid I wanted to go. After all, what toy is cooler than Legos?

Well, a trip to Denmark was pretty much out of the question. And as I grew older the desire waned somewhat, but I always loved Legos.

Then in 1999 the Lego company opened a Legoland in Carlsbad California. Annette and I had no immediate plans to go, but as our family grew, Dinohunter had inherited most of my Legos and everyone loved to play with them. As each year passed we talked more and more seriously about going. Finally, last year we decided to save up to go in 2008. Our original intent was to go during the summer, but Dinohunter’s trip to Palestine along with trips to Florida and Missouri made that complicated. The trip was delayed to the Fall, but October looked promising, since the kids would be out of school on Thursday the 16th and Friday the 17th. I was able to arrange to have those days off and it looked like everything would work out.

Finally the 16th arrived. I had arrived at 1:00AM the night /morning before coming back from work in Atlanta. Our plan was to catch the 8:50AM flight to Los Angeles. It was a good plan. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same plan, and since we only fly free if there’s an empty seat, after arriving at the airport it quickly became apparent that air travel was not going to happen. On to Plan B—drive.

The problem with driving is A) our Dodge Caravan only seats seven and, well, we are a family of seven plus one, and B) a twelve-hour drive is a sure-fire way to make sure we become a family of seven, or six even. Originally the Caravan had a built-in VCR, but a couple of years ago it stopped working. If we were going to drive we would need entertainment. We stopped by Wal-Mart and picked up an inexpensive DVD player. Once back home I soon realized that I would need to adapt the player to 12 volt current, but had no adapter. Naturally my Dad saved the day. He had one and so we met up with him and jerry-rigged our new entertainment system. Now we dared make the drive.

The kids were very well behaved. Between DVDs and Nintendo DSs they kept busy. We stopped for dinner in St. George and walked around the temple. Another highlight was driving down the Las Vegas Strip after dark. The kids were blown away with Treasure Island, New York New York, the Venetian, Luxor, and all the rest. Finally at about 2:30 in the morning we pulled into our hotel’s parking lot and checked in.

The next morning we were up by 8:30 and arrived at the park just after it opened at 10:00AM. The park is mostly geared to younger children but has a couple of rides for the older kids. But for those who love Legos, it’s all fun. The only one who was left out at all was Jack-Jack, since he was too short for several of the rides. One that everyone enjoyed is called the Knight’s Tournament. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Essentially it’s a mechanical arm that turns you upside down and throws you from side to side. It was very intense. I rode with Red Pepper and she asked why I was laughing the whole time. It was fun. Even Mr. Tickle got to ride it with his Mom, since each arm can be programmed to one of five different settings, five being the most intense. Mr. Tickle got a one, but he got to go. And once again, Jack-Jack got to watch.

For me the highlight was Miniland USA, where different parts of the country are modeled in Legos. My favorite was San Francisco, but there was also New York City, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and several other places. The detail was amazing.

The visit concluded with a stop in the Lego Store, where everyone bought something. Annette and I bought the obligatory Christmas tree ornament and refrigerator magnet. Other things purchased included key-chains made with mini-Lego figures, salt and pepper shakers and cake molds, as well as an actual set or two.

After leaving the park we made a beeline for the beach, only a half-mile away. Everyone took their shoes off and discovered that the Pacific Ocean is quite a bit colder than the Gulf of Mexico. Still we had fun as the sun set over the water. Then we stopped for dinner at In-N-Out Burger, a Southern California institution. The shakes were great!

Everyone slept well that night, as you can imagine. The next morning we took our time getting up and checking out. We stopped to visit old friends, the Rowleys, for lunch as we passed through Redlands. Finally we arrived home at 2:30AM and put everyone to bed.

And at 4:00AM I got back up to catch a plane to go back to work. It was a whirlwind, but it was fun!

Friends Forever

Thirty-four years ago I was a kindergartner with the most wonderful teacher in the world (aren’t all kindergarten teachers?), Miss Harps. That year I also made many new friends, some of whom I continued with all the way through our senior year of high school. We weren’t always close, but we always retained that tie of having been in Miss Harps’ class. Last year I attended my twentieth high school reunion and sure enough, those of us who had been in Miss Harps’ class found each other. Even though we hadn’t seen each other in twenty years, I was amazed that what bound us together was not the fact that we graduated together, but that we knew each other in kindergarten.

Small Miracles

Two years ago my parents, convinced that it was time for me to get a new car, arranged for me to acquire a ’96 Cadillac. As a financial planner, they reasoned, I should drive a more upscale car than the ’91 Ford Crown Victoria I had. The terms were excellent, and it was a great car.

Now I all I had to do was to sell the Crown Vic. It had a few issues given that it was fifteen years old, high mileage and the wear and tear that comes with it. I wanted to avoid pouring a lot of money into it. The main thing I wanted to accomplish was to refurbish the vinyl top, which had started to fade and crack. Being the brilliant individual that I am, I decided to use crazy glue to fill the cracks and then paint it over. Unfortunately the crazy glue didn’t fill the crack but just sealed it. Good, but not good enough. Then I had a better idea: Shoe Goo! It did manage to fill in the holes. . . and then some. It was a mess, and now I had to peel it off.

To add to the problems the car no longer ran very well. Whether this was a simple factor of sitting for an extended period or needing fresh gas or something more serious, now I had an additional project. I discovered this when I needed to replace a tire for my Cadillac and so drove my now un-registered and un-licensed Crown Vic to the tire store. Not only did it lurch, but, yes, you guessed it, I got pulled over and ticketed.

As time passed there was less and less of it to spend on fixing the car. First I increased the hours I was giving flight instruction and then last year of course I started working at ASA and was limited to 11 days off a month. The Crown Vic sat in my garage for fear that more exposure would worsen the vinyl while my Cadillac sat in the driveway. I kept meaning to get to it, but other projects kept diverting my attention.

Finally this past week I actually had five consecutive days off. By this time the car wouldn’t even start—the battery had corroded. My goal was now just to get it started and take it to a mechanic to see what needed to be done so I could at least advertise it as running well. I cleaned the battery cable and post and after charging the battery and getting a jump I finally succeeded in starting the car. With my wife following me we first filled the tires and then proceeded to the repair shop.

After explaining my purpose one of the mechanics offered to buy it as is for a fair price. No fuss no muss. No more time and money spent. I may have lost a couple of hundred dollars by not doing it myself, but it was worth it. Or I may have come out just fine. After all, I was nearing the point of taking it to the recycler just to get it out of the garage.

This was a real blessing. Sometimes miracles are small and not so flashy, but important and real just the same.

It Beats Working For a Living

In two more days I will have completed my first year with Atlantic Southeast Airlines. This is an important milestone in at least a couple of regards. First and foremost, during the first year the airline can terminate your employment without cause. Arriving late for an assignment is sufficient cause. So is your shirt coming untucked. Fortunately ASA is not known for its draconian behavior, but there is one area where I feel a bit exposed—commuting. Generally the last day of a reserve assignment I am on call until 9:00PM and the last flight home leaves at 8:55. So I fudge and leave early. Sometimes when feeling brave I have left on the 6:30 flight. It’s a calculated risk given that there is virtually no assignment the airline could give me and get me back in time for my day off, so the chances of it backfiring are slim. Nevertheless, I almost always check my cell phone upon landing with a hint of fear that Scheduling called while enroute. Chances are I would have to meet with a Chief Pilot who would give me a tongue lashing but likely nothing worse. Hopefully. But like I said, if the airline felt so inclined, it would be more than enough to fire me. But once a pilot has completed a year he or she then has union protection and it is much much much harder to fire them. I will still be nervous when commuting home if I leave a little early, but I won’t fear for my job. My stress level will go down a notch.

The second big deal about the year mark is the pay raise. First year first officers don’t make very much. If you are interested in knowing just how much you can click here. Every little bit helps, and it’s nice to have made it through the most difficult stage. Pilot pay raises come according to years of service—each year your pay goes up. The biggest jump is after the first year, then it grows much slower. The next real jump will come when I upgrade to captain. And when will that be? Given how the whole industry has slowed down, probably not for another five years. Sooner would be nice, but it’s not something to expect. The only ways to speed up that process are for the airline to grow or for senior pilots to leave, whether for retirement or to other airlines. Naturally we pilots hang on every rumor of growth, but it doesn’t take long to recognize that the rumors are almost always nothing more than just that.

Overall it has been a good year. The only real negative is that I am still on reserve, meaning I still do not have a regular route and schedule and so fly only when someone else doesn’t show. That’s why I have now sat in my crash pad in Atlanta for the last three days without going anywhere. I still have three more days before I go home again. Usually I’m here for four or five days at a time, but I’m here for six this time around because I was able to more around some off days so that next week I will have five days off in a row. That will be very nice. Again, the process of “holding a line” or regular schedule is a question of movement upward in seniority. Right now it’s pretty slow, but I expect that by late Spring I should finally have a line. That also comes with at least one more day off per month.

On the plus side I fly a jet airplane and they pay me to do it. I have visited Mexico and Canada plus many cities in the eastern U.S., not all particularly glamorous but good people live in them all. As my Dad, a retired United pilot, used to say, “It sure beats working for a living.”

Exercise

When I started training as a pilot last year I could see by looking at the pilots I knew that it isn’t the healthiest lifestyle. For obvious reasons it involves a lot of sitting as well as eating out. While hardly “overweight” (I’ve always been skinny) I was not in my best shape and was starting to develop a bit of a belly. Given that my wife likes me skinny, it was important for me to establish some basic habits early in my new career.

Back in high school I ran cross-country and track and have always “enjoyed” running. I put that in parentheses because it’s not as if I can’t wait to jump out the door and sprint. But I do like changing scenery and it’s something I’ve done with my family since I was a kid.

So I started running. After a few times I found a route about two miles long and that worked. I also threw in some push-ups and sit-ups. After a couple of months I had lost ten pounds and instead of my pants being too tight now I had to worry about them being too loose. Part of it was definitely the exercise, and part was eating less. Frozen dinners (no, not TV dinners—I do have standards) are only so big and don’t allow for second helpings, so that helped to limit my calorie intake. All in all I looked and felt better than I had in a couple of years or more.

Meanwhile my wife has been going to 24 Hour Fitness and so she added me to her pas as a “VIP,” meaning as long as I accompanied her it only cost another $15 per month. We try and go every week together so I get a little bit of weights, etc.

Now that I’m out of training I run around my “crash pad” apartment and around the hotels I stay at when I’m on the road. I still do push-ups regularly, but sit-ups fell by the wayside because they always strained my back.

Then yesterday I googled “abdominal exercise” and found out that the very best exercise also requires no equipment. Good, because I wasn’t going to buy any. It’s called the “bicycle crunch,” something you may all be aware of but new to me. Not radically new, but new. And it doesn’t strain my back but does work my abs hard. So I’m happy and have re-committed myself to doing a set or two every day. I can spare 10 minutes.

Did I mention my wife likes me skinny? She’s a great motivator, in all the right ways.

Something To Think About

Sometimes a film comes along that not only entertains you but also makes you think. A lot. The Dark Knight is just such a film.

First of all, I am a semi-reformed former comics geek. While I didn’t regularly collect Batman comics, there were certain series, notably Frank Miller’s dark and stylized Dark Knight Returns and gritty Batman: Year One work, that mesmerized and enthralled me. So for me the ultimate Batman is the one played straight, that shows the ethical and moral dilemmas inherent in combating evil and the choices with their natural consequences. Fortunately for me, director Christopher Nolan has a similar vision of the Batman.

After seeing the film the most striking thing was the late Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker. Nothing new here. If he doesn’t win an Oscar for best actor this year then a serious miscarriage of justice will have occurred. But as excellent as the performance was, it is how the character was written that allows Ledger’s portrayal to say something deep and meaningful.

The Joker is the personification of chaos and anarchy, and for that reason is perhaps the best cinematic representation of Satan I have ever seen. To him, only disorder has meaning. “You have all these rules and you think they'll save you. . . . The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules!” We learn no origin, as whenever he reveals something about himself it is a lie. “Nothing. No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.” Not knowing anything, we cannot empathize with him. He just is. And what he is is blood and horror. As Alfred, Bruce Wayne’s butler, describes him, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.”



Another aspect of Satan’s character embodied in the Joker (as pointed out to me by my wife) is his desire to “deceive the very elect.” The Joker turns Harvey Dent from an incorruptible champion of the law and order inherent in civilization into an agent of personal vengeance and destruction. He brags, “I took Gotham's white knight, and brought him down to our level. It wasn't hard. Y'see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little...push.” No one is immune to the conceit that the rules, which create and build community, don't apply to them personally. “You thought we could be decent men in an indecent time,” Two-Face bemoans. “But you were wrong. The world is cruel, and the only morality in a cruel world is chance.” One man decides that his will trumps the greater whole.

Interestingly, in society today and throughout history certain individuals and groups try to redefine those rules to let anarchy back in, believing that they act in the name of liberty. Liberty is not synonymous with anarchy, but when society normalizes behaviors and activities that strike at the very order that strengthens the community, it becomes the enemy of order. And where order breaks down, chaos ensues.

The Batman, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of the Joker. He is human. He doubts himself. The terror the Joker has unleashed strikes him to the very core. Nevertheless, he stays true to his moral compass. Ultimately the difference between civilization and anarchy is a set of mutually recognized and respected rules. The Joker has none, Two-Face gives his up, but the Batman stays true. Moreover, for the good of Gotham City the Batman takes upon himself the sins of another to further Dent’s work as District Attorney (See Leviticus 16:20-22). In Commissioner Gordon’s words, “[H]e's the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now...and so we'll hunt him, because he can take it. Because he's not a hero. He's a silent guardian, a watchful protector...a dark knight.”

Lots to think about. Dark and disturbing, but in the end hopeful. I don’t know that this movie is one that I’ll watch again and again, but its message will stay with me for a long time to come.

Climbing Mountains (Figuratively)

Some people thrive on self-help books. Committed to improvement, or at least the thought of it, some read the classics like Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich or Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People. Others follow the latest from Anthony Robins and others. Me? I have an aversion to self-help books. It’s not that I find them shallow or pretentious or all froth. No, I just don’t like the premise that by reading them I am admitting that I need to change. Change is hard. It takes effort. It requires us to break from our comfort zones. I like the idea of change and am devoted to personal progress, but can’t I do it later?

I am no quitter, though. Once I start on something, I tend to finish, even if it takes me, oh, just about forever. When I determined that I was going to become an airline pilot I started earnestly but ultimately took six years from starting to employment for an airline. With a family and a “regular” job, some of this delay could not be avoided, but to be fair, I wavered in my urgency during the process. It was only when finances got tight(er) and I was not hired for a full-time position as a Chief Flight Instructor at Utah Valley University that I realized it was time to pick up the pace and get it done. Nine months later I started my training in Atlanta with Atlantic Southeast Airlines.

Sometimes, however, my tendency to finish what I start has gotten in the way of progress. Shortly after graduating with my Bachelors from BYU I was introduced to an insurance marketing company, World Marketing Alliance (WMA, now World Financial Group, or WFG). I was assured that with effort I could build my own company within a company by selling investments and insurance and recruiting others to do the same. Essentially it was a financial services Amway. I stayed with it for seven years, several full-time, and never made much money. It was always around the corner, just requiring a little more effort. When I realized that the only thing I could offer potential recruits was near-poverty I knew it was time to pack it in. From this I have learned that you need 1) a goal, 2) a plan of action including a timeline, and 3) an exit strategy. Especially in business, if you aren’t seeing progress, you need a way to cut your losses and move on. But regardless, without a timeline it is very difficult to measure your progress.

In both these examples I did have a goal, and varying degrees of a plan, but it was never well clearly set out. I also definitely lacked urgency throughout the projects. I expected that because I was working toward the goal that things would work out, without taking the pace into account. Had I had greater urgency, I would have moved much more quickly, or in the case of WMA, I would have succeeded or moved on. A timeline to measure my progress would have made a real difference.

I think another lesson learned was be sure that whatever you take on is something you can really commit to. I was fully dedicated to becoming a pilot, wavering only when my training schedule slowed down to a crawl the second year. In the case of WMA, I always felt like I should be more committed, but it was never something that I could stay passionate about. Enthusiasm can wane, that’s natural, but if you’re going to commit to a major goal make sure it’s something that speaks to you at a fundamental level.

So what are my goals today? I’m currently working on three mains goals, in no particular order: 1) to shift my financial planning practice to focus on 401(k) advice, 2) to learn Arabic by 2013, and 3) to become a better parent. More on these in future blog entries!

Our World Traveller Returns

Dinohunter just returned from spending three weeks in Israel and Palestine. He was fortunate to be one of only four students chosen nationwide for a program sponsored in part by the State Department to improve understanding and cultural exchange between U.S. and Palestinian youth. While there he was able to visit the Old City, Bethlehem, the Dead Sea, Ramallah and many other sites. He also stayed with a Palestinian family for a week and improved his Arabic. In short, he had an awesome time.

Annette and I were thrilled for him. The summer after we were married we spent two months in Israel and a week in Egypt and had a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Some have asked whether we were worried for him. The short answer is no. Israel and Palestine can be dangerous, but to keep thing in perspective, he had a greater statistical likelihood of being involved in a traffic accident than being in a terrorist attack. With that said, he was two blocks away from an incident in which a Palestinian man overturned three dozen cars on a Jerusalem street with a bulldozer. Still I didn't worry. It helps that I've been there as well as many dangerous places in the world, sometimes knowingly and sometimes oblivious. Bad things do happen, but our fear magnifies it.

Upon his return Dinohunter gave out presents to each member of the family. In my case he was very generous. When Annette and I were in Israel and Palestine the one major purchase we made was to buy a nativity set in Bethlehem carved out of olive wood.

But there was one other thing I wished I had bought--a Herodian oil lamp. Believe it or not there are hundreds, probably thousands of these still around from the time of Jesus. These are the kind Jesus probably had in mind when he taught the parable of the 10 virgins. Dinohunter knew I wanted one and found one for a reasonable price, guaranteed authentic. I'm thrilled. It now has a prominent place in our curio cabinet in our living room. Thanks, Dinohunter!

Clouds

One of the pleasures of flying at 30,000 feet (on a good day--the CRJ 200 is not known for its strong climbing performance) in the summer is seeing the amazing cloud formations. I wish I had pictures to do justice to the beauty I see so often. Sometimes I think it's a shame that cartographers have mapped out the permanent geographical features of the planet but but the spectacular mountains, valleys, canyons and islands of clouds are too transitory to merit such attention. In fact, their constant evolution is part of their splendor. You will never see the same cloud twice, because it is constantly changing.

Hopefully one of these days I will own a decent camera and take pictures of my own, but for now, here are some I found on the internet that give you some idea of what I see almost every day (and these aren't even good ones).

Beware of Dressing in the Dark

About once each week I commute to Atlanta from Utah to go to work. The night before I pack and set out my uniform for the next morning. Since I usually get up at 3:30 to catch the 6:00 flight, I like to be as efficient as possible in the morning.

This past week, as usual, I reached into my closet to grab my pants. Since I have several pairs of black pants I felt for the right pair by the material. Finding the pair I wanted, I then hung them in the bathroom.

The next morning--if 3:30 can really be called morning--I got up and groggily dressed. Truth be told, the light was on, but I wasn't thinking especially clearly. I do remember noticing that the right rear pocket was buttoned closed, which I hadn't remembered doing. That was a warning sign but I didn't take heed.

After dressing I loaded my suitcase in the car and drove to the airport where I caught my flight to Atlanta. I still hadn't noticed anything. Once in Atlanta I found that I had nothing scheduled for that day so I proceeded on to my "crash pad" apartment, where I ate and then took a nap. Before lying down I undressed, still not noticing anything amiss. Can you say "fatigued?"

It wasn't until the next morning when I was about to leave to catch the bus back to the airport that I realized that not only were the pants I was wearing not my uniform pants, they were not even black. The were navy blue. And pleated. Both no-nos.

I hadn't packed a second pair of pants, so I scrambled about looking for options. At this point I saw that my roommate (who was still in Utah) had a pair of uniform pants hanging up. I reasoned that they would probably fit, although he is shorter and a little stouter than I am. This was an emergency, after all. They did fit, Not particularly well, but well enough.

Riding to the airport I hoped he would be understanding. As it was about 6:30 in the morning in Utah, I elected not to call him to ask for permission. But the more I thought about it the more concerned I was. What if he got to the crash pad expecting to use those pants and found them gone?

Fortunately Crew Outfitters, one of the uniform stores, has a branch location right in the ASA operations center at the airport. I happily arrived at the airport with a half hour to spare and marched right in, finding pants in just the right size. The only downside? Then were not hemmed. It didn't matter. I bought them and then tried doing a quick hem job myself. The results were worse than bad. I then tried safety pins with greater success. I then placed my roommates pants in his mailbox (and later called him to explain why his pants were there).

So for three days I wore unhemmed pants. But they were black. And not pleated.

When I return to Atlanta in a couple of days I will bring a backup pair of pants and a uniform shirt as well. You just never know when you may need it. Or why.

A Memorable Day

Sometimes things just don't go as planned. Yesterday as we were speeding down the runway in Atlanta we began to hear an unusual hum and feel a slight vibration. The captain chose to continue the takeoff and as we rotated (pulled back on the controls to become airborn) we felt something strike the fuselage.

"That felt like we blew a tire," the captain said as we lifted off. Another minute later we told the tower controller what had happened and warned him that there was likely some FOD (foreign object debris) on the runway. Sure enough, the pilots of the next plane taking off saw pieces of rubber on the asphalt. This confirmed our suspicion and after consulting with our dispatcher and maintenance, we elected to return to Atlanta.

One problem, however--we were overweight. The Canadair Regional Jet's maximum landing weight is 47,000 lbs. and we were at 50,000 lbs. Instead of risking an overweight landing, we decided it would be best to burn off fuel and then land. We slowed down and put flaps down to increase drag and thereby increase our fuel burn. I felt bad burning off around 450 gallons of jet fuel--probably costing around $1,800. What a waste in this time of high fuel prices, but that's how it goes. After 30 minutes we were low enough that we were confident we would be under our max weight by the time we touched down. Just to be as safe as possible we did declare an emergency and fire equipment were dispatched to meet us upon landing.

The landing was uneventful. The captain landed very gingerly, since we still didn't know which tire had blown. First the mains smoothly made contact. Then when the captain lowered the nose gear we felt the vibration again and knew that it was one of the nose gear tires that had blown. Fortunately our worst fear of being unable to control the aircraft on the ground didn't materialize and we taxied to our gate without further incident.

Once at the gate we were met by maintenance and other ASA personnel. One of them was kind enough to take a few pictures, as well as present the captain with a piece of the tire as a trophy of sorts. In the end it was a great learning experience, one I hope not to repeat again too soon.

Filling The Love Bank

When my wife and I dated we used to make tapes and share favorite songs with each other. We had a pretty similar musical taste, but through her I grew to appreciate groups like The Cure and Fleetwood Mac, while I introduced her to Paul Simon and The Eagles, just to name a few examples.

Then after we were married we got out of the habit. We did enjoy going to a few concerts together (Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles and the Moody Blues) but our practice of sharing favorite songs, particularly romantic songs, fell by the wayside.

In recent years as our children have developed an interest in music my wife started listening to new music again, starting with Radio Disney (the Mom station) and then steadily branching out. With the stress of motherhood and marriage the songs gave her a way to put feelings into words.

I, on the other hand, tended to listen to news and talk radio (NPR primarily) and only occasionally to music, and when I did it was mostly the same stuff I had always listened to or latin. In short, our musical tastes diverted. We still liked the same songs and bands we always had, but she was now into the newer artists and so this was no longer something we had in common.

Flash forward to late last year: with me away in training with ASA we both decided we had to improve our marriage. Somewhat surprisingly to me (because I'm dense) I learned that sharing music is still something that my wife enjoys and appreciates. Ever since then we have been sending songs back and forth via email. I try and send a new song most nights when I'm away. It has made a real difference. Not only have I expanded my musical taste, but more importantly we have this in common once again, and has added deposits into her love bank.

Today I went a step further. We typically send songs from YouTube to each other. Often others have made their own videos to go with a given song. Some are naturally better than others, generally consisting of photo and art montages. Last week I tried making a video of sorts using Power Point, but lacked the ability to make it into a real video. So yesterday and today I taught myself to use Windows Movie Maker and created my own video for my wife. Yes, there are better programs, but this one was on my computer already and works for my basic purposes. Did I mention it was free? I haven't sent it to her, so I can't give away anything here (to all three or four of you who ever read this besides her) but I may post it at a later date.

It was fun, albeit somewhat time consuming, but I feel like I created something of value, and I have been thinking of her all day. I should add that this also gives me new appreciatioin for my wife spending hours and hours editing the videos she makes with her students. Mine was simple. I can now begin to imagine what she's had to do. I won't be doing this every week, but once in a while when I have some spare time sitting on reserve I may just do it again. Hopefully it will make the balance that much higher in her love bank.

Edit: She liked it! Here it is below. Be sure and pause or disable the Playlist music at the bottom of the page in order to hear the song.

Sometimes They Just Can’t Pay You Enough

Two weeks ago I was assigned a round trip from Atlanta to Oklahoma City and back. It would be the last Delta Connection flight into Oklahoma City and the first one out the next morning, which translated to a five-and-a-half-hour layover. Officially these kinds of trips are called “continuous duty overnights” because we are on-duty the entire time, even when at the hotel. For obvious reasons, their vernacular name is “naps.”

The weather along the route was forecast to contain occasional thunderstorms, but we were able to past them. It was not until we neared Oklahoma City that we found another thunderstorm—with tops at 60,000 feet, spitting hail and 45-knot wind shear at the surface. We were not about to tangle with that. Having insufficient fuel to enter a holding pattern and wait it out, we elected instead to land at nearby Tulsa. There we waited, as did the passengers. Adding to the misery, the FBI and TSA were conducting a practice in the airport and so the passengers were barred from going inside. Only after we were there for an hour and a half did the airport authorities finally cordon off an area inside where the passengers could go. I have to give them credit for being very patient and understanding. Only one man said a word at all, and he elected to rent a car and drive to his destination.

Finally after three hours the coast was clear. In just thirty minutes we were at the gate in Oklahoma City, relieved and exhausted. We would only be there for two hours before departing again for our return flight to Atlanta. We could have stayed on the plane and tried to sleep there, or go to the hotel the company had already arranged and get less but better sleep. We chose the latter. I managed to get an hour-and-a-half that night, and then we were on our way back to the airport.

The return flight went smoothly. No further complications, and in spite of nearly no sleep, I was awake and alert. Thank goodness. Once back in Atlanta I was released to my off days, so instead of going back to my “crash-pad” apartment to, what else, crash, I got on the first flight back to Salt Lake City and slept rather soundly once airborne.

In the end everything worked out, but it was a rough trip. Maybe it was destined to be so. After all, the date was Friday the 13th.

The Real Reasons Why Gas is So Expensive

Gas is expensive. Yes, I have been told that I have a firm grasp of the obvious.

So what do we do about it? I know! Let's go after those evil money grubbing greedy oil companies! Nearly every day I hear something along these lines said by otherwise intelligent people, and being a firstborn, I have an overwhelming innate need for accuracy and truth. So let's talk about reality.

Myth #1: Gas stations are making record profits, gouging consumers.

Reality: Your local gas stations typically makes a 1-5% margin on gasoline, and almost always closer to 1%. When prices rise quickly, sometimes stations will price it at no margin at all. I guarantee that local stations are not happy about the current situation.

Myth #2: Oil companies are making record profits, gouging consumers.

Reality: This is true in terms of dollars earned, but lets look at this a little more closely. First of all, oil companies do not set the price for their product. There is no monopoly. If there were, then the Texas economy would not have tanked int he '80s and '90s when gas prices were so much lower. The fact of the matter is when you're dealing with minerals and natural resources, the exploration and equipment is extraordinarily expensive. When prices go down, you can actually lose money after subtracting the costs from your revenue. And when prices go up, suddenly those expenses are worth it. I have a financial planning client whose family owns a silver mine and did not operate it for years because the price of silver was too low. Guess what--oil is no different.

Currently oil companies are making a 9.7% profit margin. Not bad, but hardly the 25% profit margin that Google makes. Obviously Google is gouging us and we should go after them!

Oil companies also have some pretty nice tax breaks. They could do without some of these, but there are legitimate reasons for others. For example, if you buy a piece of property and construct a building on it, you have improved the property and expect to make a profit, which is taxed. With oil it's the exact opposite. Once you have extracted the oil the property becomes worthless. This is why oil companies can deduct the price of exploration and equipment, since its value will eventually evaporate.

Myth #3: OPEC and other oil producing contries are making record profits and gouging consumers.

Reality: Once again, they just pump it and sell it for whatever the market will bear. OPEC has tried to control the market by reducing production, but when the price is good they all cheat.

So who is gouging consumers? Surprise! No one.

Then why are gas prices going through the roof? A combination of factors, sort of a perfect storm.

First, you have the increase in worldwide demand. China and India get mentioned a lot. However, demand has not doubled in the last two years, so this is hardly the full reason, but it definitely contributes. OPEC itself has done several studies and determined that current demand should price oil at about $60 per barrel. So something more is afoot.

Second, the strength of the dollar is falling. This sounds like a bad thing, but what it really means is that U.S. products are less expensive for foreign consumers to purchase, boosting our exports. However, if you are an investor you don't want to see your purchasing power shrink, so keeping your money in dollars is a losing proposition until it levels out. So where to put that money? Ah, I know! Something that keeps its value (at least in the current market--see first point): oil (and gold and other commodities). And with more investors wanting to buy oil futures (more on these below) to protect their money's purchasing power, the price goes up.

Third, there are concerns about oil supplies. Of course, there are always concerns, since the majority of oil is pumped in less than stable parts of the world. So instability in far flung places like Iraq, Iran, Nigeria, Venezuela, etc. scares investors into thinking that oil may become scarcer. So they buy oil futues to ensure that they can buy oil at a given price, regardless of the actual price. Think of it like a pre-payment plan. (Of course, if oil goes down its a real bummer for these investors.)

You may also have heard about "peak oil." This theory essentially says that we have now extracted more than half of all oil on earth and so it's only going to get scarcer going forward. Whether true or false, it scares people, making them willing to pay more for it.

So will gas stay at its current price? Will it only get worse? The law of supply and demand still exists. With prices as high as they are other sources like oil shale, etc. become cost effective, as do alternative fuels. Within 10 years we will probably be awash in energy. Hopefully prices will come down long before then, but they will come down, probably within the next 12 months. How low? I can't even guess, but for my job's sake I hope it's much lower and soon. But for now whenever you hear someone complain and say we should go after the oil companies, just roll your eyes. You now know the truth.

The Dark Side of the Internet: Web Hoaxes!

The internet is an amazing resource. At my fingertips I can find information on virtually any topic. As an undergraduate I remember spending hours at the library just to have access to encyclopedias, magazines, academic journals, out-of-state phonebooks, etc. Then just before I graduated the World Wide Web came online, and the world hasn't been the same since.

Of course, there is the darker side of the internet. Yes, I'm talking about internet hoaxes and urban legends! I can't count how many emails I've received about how rich Microsoft's new email-tracking beta can make me or how spiders lurking under toilet seats were a terrible threat.

Several months ago I received one amusing one alleging that the Quran contained a prophecy (in chapter 9 verse 11, no less) stating that when Islam turned to fight against the Eagle its wrath would be felt throughout the lands of Allah. Never mind that this presupposes that the Quran contains true prophecies, something most Christians would be loathe to admit. Since I actually know something about the Quranand Islam, I knew the claim was ludicrous, so I looked up the actual verse and passed it back to my well-meaning sender with a polite reminder to not believe everything you are told.

In fact, I do this somewhat regularly. And the internet makes it all possible. I type in a few key words from whatever hoax has found its way to my mailbox into Google and out pops the real story. There are great sites like Truth or Fiction and Snopes, just to name a few, which are the Mythbusters of the web.

Well, apparently in spite of my cynicism for incredible claims I too am fallible. Last week I received a newsletter in the mail (regular, old fashioned snail mail, so my guard was down) from my mortgage broker. One of the columns offered seemingly helpful hints on how to maximize your money when pumping gas. With gas flirting with $4 a gallon, I was all ears (or eyes, as it were). So yesterday, as my wife and I stopped to fill up with gas I shared my newfound wisdom with her and she dared to disbelieve it. I told her I would "check my sources" and if wrong, I would put it in my blog.

So here I am, eating crow. The information is here. Technically, some of the tips might save money, but we're talking about pennies. Over time. Pennies are good things, but not enough to go seriously out of my way. Similarly I'm not going to drive six inches behind a semi in order to cut down my car's drag. Dollars I can get excited about. But not pennies. So Honey, you were right, and I was . . . er. . . mistaken. (We're both first-borns, so admitting this is a real sacrifice.)

Urban Camouflage

Sometimes it's fun to be the center of attention, the life of the party. And sometimes you'd rather avoid notice. Here are some clothes, created by Dutch designer Desiree Palmen, to help you do just that.

A Lesson Best Learned. . .

There’s a well-known saying: “A lesson best learned is learned the hard way.” But few know the rest of the saying: “But for a fool, it’s the only way.”

The best way to learn a lesson is not from our own experience, but from others’. One thing I love about reading fiction is the ability to gain insights into human nature from a different perspective. When well-written, we see things that we may otherwise be blind to in our own lives.

Several months ago I finished the last book in Dean Hughes' Hearts of the Children series. The main characters are cousins growing up in Utah and Germany during the turbulent ‘60’s and early ‘70’s. Separately and together they experience the Civil Rights struggles, the Vietnam War, Watergate, marriage, spousal abuse, divorce and imprisonment. Along the way they make choices, some right and some wrong, and learn about themselves, their faith and life.

If there was one theme I found repeated over and over throughout the books it was how often a character couldn’t see something that seemed so painfully obvious. Gene, who is wounded both body and soul in Vietnam, is unable to turn to his veteran father for help. Kathy, so committed to making a difference while serving in the Peace Corps, can’t see that her earnestness reinforces the very barriers she is trying to break down.

In reading their stories I recognized just how frequently I do the same thing. Closing the book, I resolved to do better to seek out others’ advice and really listen. Too often I think I have already thought things through, that I already know all the angles. And too often I’m wrong. Being a little (or a lot) humbler, actively looking for advice and listening allows me to learn from others experience. I don’t want to be any more foolish than I have to be.

Arroz con Menestra

I spent two years in Ecuador as a missionary, and learned to love the people, the culture, the land and the food. Well, a lot of the food. We'll leave guatita (cow stomach) out of this. Cui (Guinea Pig) is okay, however. But my favorite is arroz con menestra (rice with stewed beans ), carne asada (grilled meat) and patacones (plantains).

Since returning home eighteen years ago I have tried making it myself on a couple of occasions, but never to my satisfaction. Flash forward to tonight. Here in my "crash pad" I have several roommates, including Omar who is originally from Costa Rica. He is also a pretty good cook, and has generously shared his creations from time to time. I told him that one day I would return the favor by cooking arroz con menestra.

Tonight I finally did and it was quite a success. Maybe I have just forgotten what it tastes like, but it seemed to come out just right. It was delicious, if I do say so myself. Hmm, I wonder if I can find a good recipe for seco de chivo (kid--no, not that kind of kid--stew) or arroz con pollo (good ol' rice and chicken).

The Story of Panama Jones (Part 2)

When my senior year of high school began Amigos announced that they were considering opening a program in Brazil. For some reason that really struck me, and suddenly I was fascinated with Brazil, even taking time during a free period to try and learn Portuguese.

I was also fortunate enough to be accepted into the Honors English class. I enjoyed the discussions with the other students and appreciated the latitude Mr. Wood, our teacher, gave us to be creative. So when he assigned an essay on wisdom, I knew I wanted to do something more.

I decided that instead of writing an essay I would instead write a short story to illustrate the topic. The Adventures of Panamá Jones was born! What started out as a short story soon blossomed into a full-blown 40+ page novella! I still think of submitting it to a publisher some day, although lengthened and with quite a bit of revision.

The title makes it sound like an Indiana Jones knock-off, but that's really the only similarity. The story is about an American teenager (pretty much me, and written in first-person) who decides to travel up the Amazon River, starting at Belém (Portuguese for Bethlehem) at the mouth, then visiting the gold mines at Serra Pelada ("Naked Mountain") and onward, finally finishing high in the Andes Mountains. As I wrote, the symbolism of the names of these real places stood out to me. For example, I used Serra Pelada as a metaphor of the depravity man is capable of. I also (very) loosely based the novella on Dante's Divine Comedy (Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso) as Panamá journeys on. In the course of the story Panamá learns wisdom and comes to understand his place in the world and beyond.

The night before I was supposed to turn in the first draft (really only the first two chapters) I managed to click on the wrong command and successfully deleted my entire story. I stared at the screen in utter disbelief. But it was indeed gone. So, the next day I did something I had never done before--I cut school! (Oh, the horror!) I spent all day re-writing it, finishing barely in time to turn it in and feeling that the first draft now forever lost to mankind had been better.

In the end I got an "A" but Mr. Wood felt I had taken too many liberties, including having Panamá visit a city of over a million people on the banks of the Amazon River. He felt that was too much to be believed. But Manaus is a real place, founded during the rubber boom of the late 19th century, and today the cultural and economic center of the Amazon Basin. Sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction!

Amigos ended up not going to Brazil that summer, but in the end I wasn't able to do Amigos a third summer since my family was moving to Oregon. But I never lost my fascination with Brazil, and eventually I spent two months there during college doing a study abroad. But that's another story.

And now you know the true story of Panamá Jones.

The Story of Panamá Jones (Part One)

There I sat in my sophomore Spanish class. It was 1985. The teacher announced that we had some guests: Jeff and Karen, seniors who had spent the previous summer in Latin America with a program called Amigos de las Americas. They explained that they had spent several weeks in Peru and the Dominican Republic working on health projects like latrine construction, distributing eyeglasses and giving vaccinations. The pictures and stories they shared were amazing and their enthusiasm was contagious. By the time the sign up sheet came around I decided that I didn’t want to sit on the sidelines. I put my name on the paper and passed it on.

Over the next six months I attended weekly meetings with other volunteers to prepare. Among the highlights was learning how to mix concrete to make latrine floors (in case we were assigned latrine construction) and giving each other saline shots (vaccinations). I loved the thought of making a difference. After a few months I received my assignment: Ecuador, a small country in southwest South America. I would be living for six weeks with another volunteer helping the townspeople to build latrines. Not the most glamorous assignment, but I was thrilled. (Later my six-year-old sister told her friends that I was helping to build trains, which sounded much cooler.)

When June finally arrived I was filled with excitement and apprehension. We landed in Quito, the capital, located in the breathtakingly beautiful Andes Mountains. For the first several days we received additional training, and then left for the towns where we would be staying for the next five weeks.

I was assigned the village of Suquibí Viejo (Soo-Kee-BEE Vee-AY-Hoe), located in the central lowlands maybe eight hours from Quito, along with a Vassar student named Kristin. Ecuador prides itself of being “La Mitad del Mundo,” the middle of the world, but this was definitely the middle of nowhere. There may have been twenty-five families in the entire hamlet. And no latrines. OK, that’s not true. The elementary school had two latrines, but I’m not sure they ever got used, including by me, since they involved a 5-10 minute walk. Our job was to help each family build their own. Diedre, our “route leader,” introduced us to several people, including Carlos, the head of the family I would be staying with, and then left to take other volunteers to the next town down the road.

Culture shock naturally set in. Of course no one spoke English and our Spanish was hardly adequate. We floundered, frequently embarrassing ourselves, but survived. Each day I ate with a different family, which helped me get to know everyone, and also led to some occasional awkward situations due to my poor Spanish. (Hint, if someone speaks rapidly and then stops, looking at you expectantly, the correct response may not be “sí.”)

By the end of the time there I made some great friends both among the Ecuadorians and fellow volunteers. It opened a whole new world for me. Before Spanish was just a class in school but now it was the language of all these new experiences. Not surprisingly, my grades in Spanish the next year improved dramatically.

So what does this have to do with my name? Well, the following year I did Amigos again, this time volunteering in . . . Panamá.

Sundays

One of the pitfalls of being a new First Officer with Atlantic Southeast Airlines is I get to work when those more senior to me don’t want to: weekends. As a result I rarely get the chance to attend church on Sunday. This is one of the choices I had to make when deciding to become an airline pilot, and I am confident it is the right decision. Fortunately sometimes you can make lemonade out of a lemon.

My job takes me to communities all over the eastern United States and occasionally my schedule allows me to attend church wherever I happen to be. In February I attended a ward (congregation) in Killeen, Texas, where Fort Hood is located. In March I was able to attend in Albany, Georgia, and today I attended in Flint, Michigan.

Getting to church takes some effort. I tried walking to the church in Killeen, but fortunately was offered a ride halfway, 40 minutes after I started. Funny, it didn’t look that far on the map. In Albany I got a ride from the hotel’s shuttle since it was just down the road, and today I took a cab. But I always get a ride back to the hotel from a local member. I meet people during the meetings, and invariably someone offers to give me a ride. This is good, since the cab ride set me back $18 today. I’m not sure there is a price that can be put on attending church, but cab fare does make me think twice. I really enjoy getting to know these people and am very grateful for their generosity.

Even though each ward has its own unique identity, they all hold the same meetings and teach the same doctrine. The faith and commitment are the same, although the backgrounds differ. In Killeen most members were military families. Albany had a small ward, but since I was there the day after Daylight Savings Time began, I was told about half the congregation was missing. And the Flint Ward (actually Burton) was skewed older, but had several medical students with their young families. There were no Aaronic priesthood youth to administer the sacrament, though, so Elders and High Priests took the lead.

Attending church in these far-flung communities gives me the opportunity to meet people and make acquaintances wherever I go. Killeen, Albany and Flint are more memorable to me than most of the places I have flown to simply because I now know someone in these cities, people I have a lot in common with. I look forward to making more friends in the months and years to come.

And You Thought You Had a Long Commute?

As an airline pilot with Atlantic Southeast Airlines (ASA) I am based in Atlanta, Georgia. Like many pilots, however, I do not live in Georgia. In my case I commute from Utah. Often it’s not a bad commute, as commutes go. Once a week I fly four hours to Atlanta on one of Delta’s nonstop flights and once a week I fly back. In fact, I chose ASA in part because there are eight nonstop flights between Salt Lake City and Atlanta every day. That shouldn’t be so bad, right?

Generally it’s not. But sometimes the flights are full and then I have to get creative. Being a pilot I have “jumpseat” privileges, which means that I can fly in the extra seat in the cockpit with virtually any airline, so I have plenty of options, as long as the seat isn’t already taken. Usually I go through Denver on Frontier, and I have also gone through Chicago.

Once in a while things get tricky. This past week American Airlines grounded a third of their fleet. Big deal. But in order to minimize their passengers inconvenience, American sent them on other airlines. The net result was everyone was full, including the jumpseats. Delta, Frontier, United, etc. Apparently I’m not the only crazy commuter.

I had to be in Atlanta by 3:00PM Saturday. By the time I realized the depth of my predicament it was 11:30AM on Friday. I put everything down and packed, hoping to get lucky by starting earlier. I knew I wouldn’t make it in time for the 1:30PM Delta nonstop, so I my next bet was the 5:10PM nonstop.

I arrived at the gate only to find my worst fear realized: the plane was oversold with multiple standbys and three other pilots already in line for the single jumpseat. There was no way I was going to make this flight, and whoever didn’t get on would wait for the next one at 12:50AM, and then the 6:00AM, etc.

I hustled over to Concourse A to see if I could get to Denver. Frontier was departing at 4:50. It was full, but the jumpseat was open. In fact on the Airbus 319, there are two, and there were two of us, but the captain convinced the other jumpseater to sit in the cabin on the flight attendant jumpseat by telling him that one of the flight attendants was a cute blonde.

OK, so far, so good. My plan was to make Frontier’s 6:55PM connection from Denver to Atlanta. With two jumpseats instead of one I should still get there that same night. But no dice. Once in Denver I went immediately to the gate to find both jumpseats already spoken for. Frontier’s next flight was at 12:25AM, with no guarantee that I would be able to get it.

I rushed from Concourse A to Concourse C to see what else was available. One of the maddening things about the Denver airport is each concourse’s departure and arrival screens are only for that concourse. If you want to know about other flights at the airport you have to physically go to the applicable concourse. There I found that Delta had a flight at 12:50AM. Then to Concourse B, where I found a United flight that was departing in just 15 minutes. I hurried, only to find—yes, you guessed it—the airplane full and the jumpseat taken.

It was time to get creative. I called my Mom and had her log into Delta’s employee website and together we looked at several possibilities. The Delta flight was oversold just like the flights in Salt Lake City, so not a good option. There were more flights the next morning but equally as bad. AirTran left the next morning at 8:00AM, so that was a possibility, but nothing looked like a sure thing, and I needed a sure thing.

What about other cities? I looked at the departures and saw that Southwest was going to Kansas City at 9:10PM. Mom checked on Delta flights from Kansas City to Atlanta and found that the 6:00AM flight to Atlanta had 36 empty seats on it, and the 7:10AM flight also had empty seats and was operated by ASA, which meant I would have priority. I just might make it!

I boarded the Southwest flight and did my best to sleep en route. Arriving shortly before midnight, Central Time, I searched for a place I could snooze. I found a chair that would work, called home and updated my wife, and then tried my best to sleep. It could have been worse, but it was not quality sleep.

Then at 5:00AM I dragged myself to the gate. Empty seats were plentiful, and I even scored a first class spot! As soon as the plane was airborne I put the seat back and closed my eyes. We were delayed somewhat en route, but finally touched down at 9:30AM Eastern Time. I had made it!

All in all my commute this weekend totaled three flights and about seventeen hours. In the six months I have worked for ASA this has been the hardest one. Thank goodness this is not normal. I hope.