This is my column -- The FlipSide -- in this week's L'Attitudes. And yeah, Rebecca, I put your photo on the cover to tease the story. Now you're famous. Or is that infamous?
Accidentally ending up in Cuba
By Jessica Machetta
OK, so it was Cuba, Mo. In fact, one could visit Paris, Versailles, Mexico and Japan all in the same day - all Show Me State-style - if they wanted too, but I don't recommend it.What I wanted was to board a direct flight from Miami to St. Louis, then do the reverse to get home three days later, just as I'd booked tickets to do more than two months ago.
I drove to Miami last Thursday with a happy feeling in my heart. Excited to see my girls, my family, my friends - gifts for all in my suitcase.One missed exit, one traffic jam, two incomprehensible sets of directions (Spanish-speaking only), a call to my friend Jenn who talked me through it all while she was on MapQuest, two full parking garages and a broken suitcase later, I was laughed at when I asked at bag check if there was any way I would make my flight. I opted for the later flight to Atlanta where I would make my connecting flight.
Or so I thought.In Atlanta, after being sent from Gate T to Gate C than back to Gate T, I was told the flight was delayed one hour. Which is why it was funny when I returned 15 minutes later to a locked door and no gate attendant. (OK, well now it's funny.) I and another girl (also told it would be one hour - we'd gone two gates down to suck down a quick ciggy) practically had siezures in front of the window trying to get the pilot's attention.
Then we ran both ways trying to find another gate attendant. No dice. Sweating and waving some more, we freaked out together, much to the amusement of the people who had already been waiting around for hours upon hours, trying to get to Chicago where weather was a problem.
“Why didn't you wave at the window?” the attendant asked.We told her we about stroked out we were waving so much and she said something like, “That's strange, usually the pilot sees that and tells me to come back and get the passengers.”But that would be luck, something that was not on my side this time.
After booking a 7 a.m. flight the next morning, my new friend said she was taking the same early morning flight and that I could stay with her at her condo.I was incredulous.“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it's no problem. We'll take the train to my house, shower, book a cab for the morning and come back,” she said.
“Um, I'm Jessica, by the way,” said.
“I'm Rebecca.”
So I accepted. Once at her condo, she remembered she'd given her house keys to a friend. When he showed up with them, he determined we both looked like we needed a drink. Indeed. If you're ever in Atlanta, there's a great little pub in Midtown called McCray's. It's next to the gay district.Once back at her place, we decided we better not sleep at all for fear of missing another flight. The next morning, er, three hours later, our cabby never showed. We found him at the Krispy Kreme on the corner, sleeping.
Back at ATL, I tried to print my boarding pass at a kiosk (Rebecca's printed just fine) and it said to see an attendant, who shooed me to the back of a long line. Fighting back tears, I waited for what seemed like forever. Finally it was my turn.“I'm showing that you made your destination last night,” the lady told me.
Are you kidding me?
OK, more hustling.
Rebecca waited for me at the head of the security check line and let me cut in. That's what new friends do for each other.
“We have time for one, quick cigarette,” she said. “Wouldn't it be funny if we saw our Chicago friends in there?”
The previous evening, we had met Alex and Wendell, two strangers-now-friends, who were punch drunk after a multitude of delays. They were supposed to finally board at the same time we were.We walked into the smoking cage, and there they were. Apparently, Chicago was so backed up, their pilot decided he “didn't want to do it.”
One cigarette, a few laughs about our combined misfortune, well wishes and we were off. We landed, promised to stay in touch and split to find our respective families.
I got my rental car, which had Wisconsin plates, so when I missed my exit - again - I didn't look too foolish asking for directions. I knew something was wrong when I started seeing signs for Cuba. It was raining like crazy and there were tornado warnings for most of the St. Louis region.
People were calling into the radio stations talking about how they'd been without power for two days and it was sweltering. Ironic, considering last time I came from St. Louis into the Keys it was the day after Wilma. Seems I have a knack for traveling into chaos.
Needless to say, on the return, after lots of good times with my friends and family back home, I headed back to the airport six hours before my departure time. I wasn't taking any chances. As is Murphy's Law, it took me and my girls all of 20 minutes to return the car, check in and get to our gate. So we ate and shopped, shopped and ate.
We went to the gate to see if we could board early and get going on a nap.
“That flight's been cancelled because of mechanical problems,” the attendant said. He tried to send me to Vegas for a connection. I said no. Chicago? No.
“Well where do you want to go?” he asked.“Somewhere in Florida would be nice,” I said, starting to get snappy.
One of my favorite movie lines, “It's good to want things,” didn't provide any comfort as I stood at my gate, two tired children in tow, crying on the phone to my friend Vala in St. Augustine.
“They don't fly into Jacksonville,” I squeaked. (I start losing my voice after several days of little to no sleep.)
“Yes we do, yes we do,” the attendant interrupted.
“I'll see you about midnight,” I told Vala.We were at a table having a snack and a drink, again, when I said to my oldest daughter Claire, “Tell mama not to cry, everything's going to be OK.”
“Mom, you might as well go ahead and cry, everything is not going to be all right,” she said.I stared at her. “Just kidding,” she said, “everything's going to be fine. We're going to go see aunt Vala, right?”
And we did. And it was. We went back to JAX the next morning, caught our flight back to MIA, got our car and headed for the islands.
Would you believe I hit mini-season traffic as soon as I got on the turnpike? I bet you would.
So to Rebecca, Alex and Wendell, what a long strange trip it's been. And you never know how many potential new friends await your arrival in the smoking section.May all of your journeys be safe ones.
Jessica Machetta is the editor of L'Attitudes. She can be reached at jmachetta@keynoter.com.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Banana Cabanna
Macy loves her new school. She let me take this ONE photo with my cell phone before she ran inside to meet her new teachers and classmates. She's growing like a weed and is for sure too smart for us all.
Pit stop St. Augustine
You're beautiful baby...
Keep repeating it Sean. You're doing good. Say it again. AGAIN! Now try this one: Can I get you anything baby? Rub your back? Some ice cream? You're so beautiful. Sooooo beautiful. And sexy. Throw that in there a lot too.
Ron and Karen
Uncle Ron drove all the way to the airport to get me ... and I wasn't there. You've already heard this story. But no worries, he still hosted a cookout for us before we came home. Ron and Karen are like mother hens. Don't get too worked up about anything and always big hugs to share. And I got to see Fabian and Rachel's new little boy, Fox, and Jenn and Sean showed up too. Sean got lots of pregnant women stories, poor boy. Rub the belly Sean, just rub the belly. Repeat after me, "You're beautiful, honey." Keep repeating for the next seven to 56 months, however long it takes! And mean it, dammit! Dinner, of course, was fabulous. Nothing like good ol' homegrown Missouri ribs. Except maybe mutton snapper, right Ron?
ten and two, ten and two
Nothing like having your kid drive you around for the first time. Claire perfected her driving skills before I got there, so no, we did not end up in the blackberry patch. Thank goodness. We got to the end of the lane, and as if I hadn't trekked that path a ga-jillion times as a kid, she said, "Hang on mom, it's a little bumpy in this part." It was a glorous tour of soybeans, the creek, an old Pontiac shell my brother dragged up there years ago, corn, old air conditioning units apprently now used for target practice (didn't get to shoot any guns this time, darn it), more soybeans ... and soybeans. Oh, and hills. It was good to see hills again.
Sara and Gideon
New mama! Sorry Sara and Jason, but you're doomed with the next baby because this kid is sooooo good that you are in for a treat with No. 2! Claire was unimpressed -- yeah, yeah, babies -- Macy was enthralled, I just wanted to smell his head. Working on that second one yet? Uh huh! Good job you guys. He's beautiful. You're beautiful. We're all pretty beautiful.
Annie
Annie K -- my artist. My muse. My practical dreamer. We're all going to see her name in galleries one day. Somewhere on this blog I posted a buncha reasons why I love me Annie K. You're going to have to look for them. I have more photos to post.
Ana and Chrissy
We girls all got together at Sara's house for some wine, food and yes, lots of good conversation. I've got the most beautiful friends in the world, you know. Aren't we a buncha sexy dames? Both of these chicas have had two kids. And look at 'em. Dead sexy, both of 'em.
Dad's jeans and farm scenes
When I was growing up, my dad played a lot of Cat Stevens on the reel-to-reel. It's become my favorite comfort music, and perhaps the one that is closest to my heart is "Very Young." It's a song I don't recall hearing so much as a kid, but one that reminds me of the fragility of life, children, and dreams.
Quite fitting that on Highway W, just after leaving the farm to head back home, it came over the radio. I turned it up loud and the girls and I sang along. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. The best line in the song is about dad's jeans. I took a photo of dad's jeans on the clothes line while I was there, fluffy clouds, corn and all.
Sing along for a minute:
Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while.
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now,
They will vanish away like your dad's best jeans,
Denim blue fading up to the sky.
And though you want them to last forever,
You know they never will.
You know they never will.
And the patches make the goodbye harder still.
Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind.
And if you want this world to see a better day,
Will you carry the words of love with you?
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven?
And though you want to last forever,
You know you never will.
You know you never will.
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still.
Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while.
Oh very young what will you leave us this time?
Me and my bro
I think this is when my brother was asking me if I ever had problems with boogers getting caked up around the inside of my nose ring. Guess he's always wondered that. He's a cop now and is loving it. Seems we've both gone through some life changes that have been good for the soul. Thanks to him I'm a crack shot and one tough cookie. Never thought I'd say this, but thanks for beating the crap out of me on a regular basis, Michael. I'm a better woman for it. See you in church.
Meeting Rebecca
This is the girl who graciously took me into her home when we both got missed our plane in Atlanta. She's the one on the far right.
Her name is Rebecca Saferstein. She's a paralegal. She taught me to say "Oy vey, I'm schvitzing" when it's crazy hot down here. She grew up in Miami so I guess she would know.
She was on her way to Peachfest, an annual family reunion tradition in St. Louis. I'm glad I met her. Not only was she my savior, but she's a neat person and a lot of fun. You never know where life's little mishaps will lead you. Our little airport mishap led us to a McCray's, an awesome little pub in the gay district of Midtown in Atlanta. Sweet!
Sunday, July 02, 2006
GRANDMAAAAAAAA'S ! ! !
Note and photos from Grandpa...
Ms. Jessica and Mr. Keith:
I am sending a few photos to show you the kids are doing just fine. We dug a few potatoes, went to Jackie and Harold's to see the chicks and slide downtheir slide and of course driving the golf cart. We went swimming too. The kids are doing very well. Patty took them to the drug store and bought each of them a stuffed animal and told them to be real good in the store. Patty said that when they left the woman said, "My, those are really nice kids."Or something like that. Macy is such a sight. Jessica, she will probably be like you in that they may ask you if you want them to move her ahead agrade or two in school. Patty says Macy didn't say she was sad last night. She was probably too worn out to care. Anyway they are beautiful kids. Claire practiced a few times driving the golf cart but ran into the blackberry patch on her maiden flight. She was all upset but got over it and is now wrestling with the boys.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
My raft expert
My friend and fellow writer Matt Lawrence says that tiny foam raft was made by pouring gasoline to shape the foam into or onto a wood frame and the notches indicate they left with food and water because after 4 days with nothing on the open water you're done. And the bundles of twine on board were for fishing while they were out there. Talk about sushi, ick.
"Not many make it on those types of rafts," he says. "Back in the 90s, three out of four that tried, died."
He says the empty ones floating out there are called "tombstones at sea."
He's an expert on the situation because he used to fly over the Atlantic looking for rafters and helped in rescues. Wrote a gripping novel about it called "Dying To Get Here: A Story of Coming to America." Got to www.mattlawrencebooks.com and check it out. Then buy it and read it because he's when he gets rich from the book sales he's going to hook me up.
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