You Must Be On Vacation

Two small children just walked into the gate area with their parents. The kids are wearing t-shirts with what I assume are individual pictures of their parents 30 years ago. It shouldn’t be creepy, but it is.

“You must be on vacation. No computer!” The words came from Helaine. They were dripping with sarcasm.

We are at Bradley’s Gate 2 and I am plugged in… more accurately plugged in twice. The iPhone, which still had 90% battery remaining is getting topped off for the trip cross country. It has replaced the laptop as my flying companion. At the moment it holds five or six hours of video along with a few hundred songs. More importantly, in the airplane mode it has enough power for BDL-DEN then DEN-LAX.

Two small children just walked into the gate area with their parents. The kids are wearing t-shirts with what I assume are individual pictures of their parents 30 years ago. It shouldn’t be creepy, but it is.

We’re 1,670 miles from Denver. It should be farther, shouldn’t it? It should be almost all the way to the West Coast. We’ll still be 860 miles from the Pacific.

Helaine and I were talking about trips-gone-by on our way up here. I remembered sitting on a delayed TWA L-1011 at Philadelphia. The doors were open. People freely walked back-and-forth between the plane and terminal. Those days will never return.

When I blog about flying I often get comments from people who don’t, won’t or have never flown. Don’t worry about missing the glamor. It’s been a long time since flights were glamorous–since people get dressed-up to fly. What you’re missing is this whole beautiful country.

America is much more diverse than what you’d expect if you’ve only traveled as far as you can drive.

Tonight we’ll be in Santa Barbara. It’s on the ocean but it couldn’t be more different than any East Coast ocean town. The Pacific Coast itself is different than the Atlantic. Anyone who’s been to both can differentiate them in a lineup.

This will be a long day of traveling. The scheduled terminal-to-terminal-to-terminal time is eight hours.

If time permits I’ll check in from Denver.

The Storm’s Over — The Numbers Are In

The dry air was the wild card. Radar showed moderate snow over all of Connecticut for hours-and-hours before anything hit the ground.

snow-shovel-on-the-steps.jpgThe snow has come and gone. There’s never a bullseye, but the forecast was reasonably close. If success is judged by number of complaints, or lack thereof, I’m doing fine. Here are the final DOT numbers. I have also added the Boston and New York NWS snow totals, which include Connecticut, for the Dec 20-21, 2009 storm at the end of this entry.

Not everyone was as lucky. A friend who forecasts in Springfield sent a text message saying he’d received nothing! “Bust of the decade,” he said. Ouch. Been there. I know exactly what he’s going through.

I was right about Southeastern Connecticut getting the most snow followed by the shoreline in general. The snow was fluffy and windblown as predicted. Accumulations were generally in line with my numbers. My call for the Northwest Hills and most of the area directly adjacent to the Massachusetts line was a few inches higher than the actual totals.

I wrote about this last night, but it bears repeating the most unusual and interesting part of this storm was the exceptionally dry air. During the summer we sometimes see 30 grams of water content per square meter. Last night it was around 1 gram per cubic meter!

The dry air was the wild card. Radar showed moderate snow over all of Connecticut for hours-and-hours before anything hit the ground. Once the atmospheric column over any location became saturated light snow turned to heavy snow. I’d never seen a situation quite like this before. It cut inches off all the accumulations.

It’s a shame this storm will impact Christmas shopping. Otherwise we’re lucky it came on a Saturday night when travel is usually light.

And now the dig out begins.

(NWS totals after the jump)

Continue reading “The Storm’s Over — The Numbers Are In”

The Long Trip Home – Ontario Airport

This morning its base is covered in low clouds but its peak is visible.

We’re on our way home to Connecticut. That very well could be a problem. It’s raining lightly and 37&#176 at Bradley Airport right now. It will probably be snowing upon our arrival!

The drive from Palm Springs to Ontario was uneventful. Most of the windmills in the pass were still. I wonder if they’re on-demand or how it’s decided whether they spin or not. Shouldn’t windmills be the first type of electricity generated?

IMG_0315[1].JPGWe stopped for breakfast once we got close to here. Is there anything more California sounding than Advocado Burger? We both had pancakes.

There is a very tall mountain adjacent to this city. I’m assuming I’m talking about Ontario Peak, but I can’t be sure. This morning its base is covered in low clouds but its peak is visible.

Helaine said it looked spooky–and she’s right. It does!

We checked our bags, dropped off the rental car and returned to the terminal. Now we wait. This flight to Las Vegas is on time. The bigger concern is the flight from Vegas to Hartford. I expect the weather will allow us to get to Connecticut tonight… I just can’t be sure.

More to come, probably from McCarran Airport in Las Vegas.

The 500 Mile Weekend – Stef Graduates

This was the culmination of 17 years of education. It all began with the “Counting Worm” on the wall outside her kindergarten class!

graduation-stef.jpg

Between yesterday’s round-trips to Bradley Airport and Hofstra University (I suspect this is the first time I’ve mentioned Stef’s school by name in the blog… now that she’s done) and today’s additional round-trip to Hofstra I am fried! So is everyone else in the family. It was all well worth it.

Stef walked with (judging by the call of names) three or four million fellow graduates on the Hofstra University football field. It was a marvelous moment for Helaine, my parents and me–Stef too I suppose. This was the culmination of 17 years of education. It all began with the “Counting Worm” on the wall outside her kindergarten class!

The Fox family has been through a lot. A child cannot grow to nearly 22 years (Stef will be celebrating her second 21st birthday next month) without some angst, grief and premature aging of her parents. Stef did not disappoint in that regard.

I will write more about today later. Meanwhile, tonight it seems like quite an accomplishment and we are proud of all she did.

Our Eventful Trip To Florida

This was an interesting trip to Florida. Everything went wrong. Everything went right.

The trip to Bradley Airport was just fine. We pulled into Roncari, dropped off our car and hopped into the van. Because we were going to Florida, we left our coats in the car. Because it was just sitting, the van’s engine and heater were off. Bad time to be coatless.

It wasn’t a particularly busy Saturday afternoon. We wheeled our bags in, checked the one that held the always suspect and always dangerous toiletries (can’t carry those on anymore) and headed toward security.

Even on a light travel day, if you only have two of the four screening stations open, there will be a line. There was a sizable line. Still, we were early – no sweat.

A man wearing a white TSA shirt with those weird epaulettes yelled instructions vaguely in the direction of the line. He held up a one quart plastic bag. He said something about laptops. He was the vocal equivalent of the hodge podge of Scotch taped signs carrying most of the TSA’s rules.

Hint: Dirty, sometimes ripped signs, affixed to pillars with tape, is not the way to make people think you’re a top notch safety and security organization. They will think of you as the DMV with arrest powers. Better still…

Do this. Don’t do that. Can’t you read the signs? – “Signs,” Five Man Electrical Band.

Remember, these people thoroughly screen all the pilots even though they will be at the controls of the actual airplane!

I emptied my pockets, removed my shoes, put my laptop in a plastic tub – flat. This wasn’t my first time to the rodeo. I knew the drill.

I walked into the phone booth GE claims will sniff out explosives. Little puffs of air poked at my clothes. I waited. I waited some more. The door opened and I stepped out.

Next up was the metal detector. I was told, unless I was wearing a “country trucker” belt buckle I’d be OK. I walked through

BEEP.

I looked down at myself. Oops. My Bluetooth headphone was sitting on my shirt. I handed it to the guard… a guy who remembered me from when he worked at Sears Optical.

BEEP.

I’ll bet you didn’t know this. The TSA has a two strikes and you’re out policy. I needed to be patted down.

I’ve heard stories about how terrible this is for women. Get in line. It’s demeaning for everyone.

The guy was doing his job, I know. I just don’t want anyone feeling me up. And, in essence, that’s what being patted down is.

Before he went to my most sensitive parts, he told me he was going to use the back of his hand. it made no difference.

These guys are doing their job. Of course. Does this job make us safer? I don’t think so.

Our plane was due at Gate 4. As is the norm with Southwest it unloaded quickly, but before we could board, there was an announcement. On the way in, the plane had flown through a flock of birds and struck one with the leading edge of the left wing.

They didn’t think the plane suffered any damage, planes are designed to survive, but maintenance would have to look and make sure… and they don’t work for Southwest… and they’ll have to drive over from wherever it is the folks who work maintenance Saturday afternoons are kept.

Within a few minutes the pilot decided the plane would pass, so we might as well board anyway, even though the inspection hadn’t started. And we did.

So, we’re sitting there on the plane, and Helaine is staring at a guy wearing shades, looking at the wing, when the pilot comes on the P.A. He’s still expecting a passing grade on the wing, but now TSA was telling him there’d been a security incursion at the airport and until the two people who wandered where they shouldn’t be were located, there would be no landings, no security screening and no departures!

Did I mention we were flying to Tampa, with a 45 minute layover before boarding a connecting flight to Palm Beach International?

The minute hand on my watch began moving fast enough for me to see. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. Then it was a half hour and forty five minutes.

I saw the pilot, standing near the door, and explained our plight. He said he’d check.

As the one hour mark approached, we were cleared to go. Michael, a ground agent from Bradley and Dominic, a flight attendant came over to where we were seated. They understood our predicament… one shared with 13 others on the flight… and would make sure word got out.

I’m not going to make you sit through the second-by-second details, but we landed too late to make that connecting flight. Except Southwest held it at the gate!

I know I’ve slobbered endlessly in the past about my great affection for Southwest, but you tell me if this is the outcome you expected? And it wasn’t because I was TV-boy.

We walked the three gates to our outbound flight, handed over our boarding passes and started to walk down the jetway. Along the way, I thanked EVERY Southwest employee I saw. I wanted them to know this was the decision they needed to make, and I appreciated them making it.

“Avoid eye contact,” Helaine said as we boarded the plane. These folks had been sitting aimlessly, waiting for us.

As I walked down the aisle I looked up and to no one in general said, “Thank you for waiting.”

After all this tumult and grief we landed in Palm Beach about ten minutes late! My parents were waiting for us.

It was a very bad day to be a bird flying low over the Bradley Airport approach. It was a good day to be the Foxes. We’re in Florida.

An Old Friend Returns

Back in 1969, my first day on-the-air at WSAR was a little unnerving. Someone needed to break me in on the control board and make sure I knew what I was doing. That person was Skippy Ross, who became Skip Tyler, who became Bob Lacey. The photo to the left is Bob in 1975 at Hoover Dam.

Isn’t radio great? All those cue scratched 45’s ago and we’re still friends.

I picked him up at Bradley Airport this afternoon (I’m sorry sir, you can’t stop here. You’ll have to circle the terminal until your party arrives). We drove to New Haven so he could get a New Haven sweatshirt (in short supply in Charlotte, NC), then up to Glenwood Drive-in here in Hamden where he craved a grilled dog.

Tomorrow Bob and I are driving to Maine. This won’t be our first vacation trip together, but certainly the first in over 30 years! The photo just to the left is me on that vacation, on the beach at Malibu.

At work, some co-workers have speculated how well I will survive coastal Maine. We’re only staying until Wednesday. Will I make it or go stir crazy with limited cell service and the possibility of no Internet.

No Internet! What is this, 1956?

If there’s a little pause in the blog, you’ll understand what’s going on. Meanwhile, sometime tomorrow we’re piling in the car and heading to Southwest Harbor, Maine. “Clicky” is making the trip, so there will be photos.

Aloha.

Oh – one more thing. Bob’s daughter Landon Lacey has a great website where she sells her handcrafted jewelery. not that my mention means much, but a free plug’s a free plug.

Southwest Airlines – May I Kiss You On The Lips?

I am writing this, sitting on a cold faux marble floor in our bathroom at the Holiday Inn, just outside of Baltimore-Washington Airport. It is 5:00 AM and I can’t sleep. In order not to disturb Helaine and Stef, I have adopted this as my temporary office.

The free wireless access works much better here than in the actual room!

That we are here is some sort of minor miracle. If you fly on airplanes and are used to being treated like fecal material, please read this story, made even better by this email from meteorologist Bob, in Florida.

gon, wst (westerly ri) both went to snow last hour

dad went to snow 5 mins ago.

good thing you left when you did.

The GON he mentions is Groton/New London Airport, arguably Connecticut’s airport most likely to report rain when others are seeing snow! His dad is in North Branford, also less likely to see a quick change to snow.

Yesterday morning, when it looked like we’d be seeing significant snow, sleet and freezing rain, and knowing we had to get to California now or miss our cruise ship, I called Southwest Airlines. The best way to summarize the opening of the conversation is to quote Rick Springfield’s, “Don’t Talk To Strangers.”

“I’m begging you, please”

Though I explained my situation, the agent couldn’t help. Southwest Airlines had policies in place.

I pleaded my case for a few minutes before asking, nicely, if I could speak to a supervisor. I tried everything, including the option of moving us to Islip, a 2:30 hour drive. The supervisor listened to our plight (Linda from Albuquerque. “I’m not the bilingual Linda in Albuquerque.”) but wouldn’t budge.

Finally, she broke down. She understood the fragility of our cruise plans and that Southwest was booked solid, should our flight be canceled. They would move us out of Connecticut Monday night and we could pick up the rest of our itinerary on Tuesday.

Quickly, Helaine went to hotwire.com and found a hotel at Baltimore-Washington Airport. Last minute, Holiday Inn – under $70.

When I told my friend Peter, someone who had racked hundreds of thousands of miles over the years, mostly on United, he said he was amazed. Southwest had done the right thing for me and for Southwest, but he had never heard of it happening before.

Let me add, this is not because I’m “TV-boy” in Connecticut. These operators were in Albuquerque.

Now the real test began – we weren’t packed. Helaine, our ‘packing supervisor’ and all around ‘logistics specialist,’ would have to compress 24 hours of planning into six! And she did.

This was one of those times when Helaine’s incredible organizational acumen took over. She was worried we wouldn’t make it, but she faced the task and moved forward.

There were chores out of the house she needed to do, and things for me to do while she was gone. I made a list. I am not a list maker. I understood today had to be different.

I’m not going to take my usual cheap shot about how much baggage we finally brought. It’s a lot. At this point how could I mind?

We got to Bradley Airport in Hartford to check in. The change of plans left me with a legit ticket, but Helaine and Steffie (both flying non-revenue) with nothing on paper and some cobbled together exceptions that the computer couldn’t handle on its own.

Donna from Torrington was our customer service agent at the ticket counter at Bradley. When she read the notes on her computer she stopped. She said she hadn’t seen anything like this before… and neither had the computer. It refused to issue Helaine a boarding pass (though it had for Steffie, and had hours ago for me).

She called the help desk to get some assistance. The person on the other end also commented on how unusual the remarks with our reservation were.

Because of Helaine and Steffie’s late re-booking, their tickets were marked for extra screening by the TSA. No problem. At this point we were way ahead of the game. Screen on.

So, here we are at the Holiday Inn at BWI. We had a lovely ride on the courtesy van with a bunch of airline employees and four drunk folks from Cleveland, kicked off their flight to sober up!

Our flight from BWI to LAX doesn’t leave until this evening. Based on what I’ve seen of the Northeast’s weather, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were open seats and we made it out of Baltimore a whole lot earlier.

We are not in Los Angeles yet, but we are much closer than mileage alone would imply. And, a huge burden has been lifted from our shoulders.

If we were home right now, hoping to make our scheduled flight, we’d be out-of-luck. No one in bed in Connecticut now will make that Wednesday cruise.

I think I’m going to try to go back to sleep.

I Didn’t Know I Was This Nice

My friend Farrell’s mom, Ruth, has been interviewed again about her escape from New Orleans.

Every time she tells the story, I become a bigger hero. It’s now the “Legend of Geoff Fox.”

Seriously, this was a call anyone with info would make to the parent of a close friend. I am glad Ruth escaped New Orleans unscathed. I’m glad she listened to her family and friends, because I know in her heart she very much wanted to stay.

The story from the Valley Gazette continues at the jump.

Continue reading “I Didn’t Know I Was This Nice”

Greetings From California

I’m writing from 30 some odd thousand feet. I have no idea where we are, sitting in the aisle seat with the window shades to my left pulled down.

Stef saw what I wrote and pulled up the shade. We’re over mountains – probably the Rockies… possibly the Bullwinkles&#185.

Our exit from Connecticut was uneventful. Well, nearly uneventful. Over the past few days a low, throaty whir has been coming from somewhere in the rear of the Explorer. I drove it to Steve at the Exxon station. What an ear! Twenty seconds of driving to hear, “Wheel bearing. Left rear wheel. It could last another 50,000 miles.” But, would it last to Bradley Airport and back? “Yes.”

We headed to the airport… heading to the long term lot where we’ve parked for better than 15 years. AAA gives discount coupons, and it’s a really good deal.

When we got there a man with a walkie talkie was standing out front and the entrance was blocked. Full! We’d never seen that before. We went to their self park lot in the back. This would mean a cold car, covered in snow if it snows, on pickup. Life goes on.

I think we’re really close to the quarter ton goal with baggage. We checked 6, rolled 2 as carry ons and had a few random shoulder bags. The driver of the van to the terminal felt it necessary to ask how long we were staying.

I tipped him anyway.

Though the parking lot was full, the Southwest portion on the terminal was empty. Three people were behind the counter and we were the only ones needing help. I had printed pour boarding passes just after midnight, getting us “A” passes which got us on the plane in the first wave. Helaine handed them to the agent and got our baggage tags. Then it was time for me to drag, roll and push them to the TSA agents.

Even with a large load like this it no longer makes sense to use a skycap. There are too many steps, and the bags are yours to push far too soon for his help to be worthwhile.

We moved on to security screening. As we got there a sweet, white haired woman was having her sneakers removed by a rubber gloved officer. I’m not law enforcement savvy, but she didn’t seem like much of a threat to me.

My camera bag got the twice over and, of course, Helaine got the thrice over. I’m not sure what she’s done to upset the powers that be, but she is nearly always singled out for additional scrutiny.

While Helaine’s inspection continued, I noticed a Connecticut State Trooper on a Segway. I think it’s a good idea… but then I saw another trooper on a bike. Even in the terminal, I suspect the bike is faster… and the trooper gets more fit.

The flight from Hartford to Las Vegas was 5:50. That is too long to be in an airplane without entertainment. It was, by far, the noisiest flight I’ve ever been on. Not the plane – the passengers. I guess that’s part and parcel of going to Vegas. You get in that party mood as early as possible.

Our layover in Las Vegas was around an hour. Helaine and Steffie went to Burger King and brought a Whopper back for me. There is free Internet access at McCarren Airport, but my battery was down to a few minutes, so I checked my mail, sent some cryptic responses and ate my burger.

Las Vegas to Burbank is a much easier trip – about an hour gate to gate.

Bob Hope Airport in Burbank is like a throwback to an older time. That’s not to say it’s quaint and pretty, because it isn’t. It’s an airport that’s bursting at the seams. It’s also the first time in years that I deplaned using air stairs! Southwest unloaded the passengers through both the front and rear stairs of the 737.

We chose Burbank because we had heard it was much smaller and easier to get around in than LAX. That was absolutely true. The baggage claim is in a covered, though open air area. Thank heavens the heavy winter rains are over! Aren’t they?

Because we’re bringing enough baggage to stay permanently, should we choose, we rented an SUV. We got a white Chevy Trail Blazer from Alamo. Nice deal. Nice car. It feels bigger and heavier than our Explorer.

The drive to our hotel was uneventful… and now as Helaine and Stef unpack, I’m typing this. I guess I’d better stop and help. More tomorrow from Southern California.

Meanwhile, a little look off our west facing balcony. I believe that’s Santa Monica in the distance.

&#185 – Sorry. Unavoidable.

Not My First Choice in Weather

As the 00z (7:00 PM) run of the eta (a computer generated weather prediction model) starts coming in, it seems like the earlier prognostications will stand. Snow, starting before dawn and lasting through midday.

It won’t be a lot of snow, but we have the long drive to Bradley Airport. And then, Helaine has to drive back home.

This trip will start earlier than usual. Hopefully, I won’t spend the entire day sitting in the terminal… but I might.

The Weatherman’s the Last to Know

So, here I am at 3:30 AM, schmoozing on IM with my friend Bob in Florida, when he springs it on me. The computer models are now calling for about &#188″ of precipitation on Monday, my getaway day. And, to make matters worse, it looks like snow.

The snow had been in my forecast, but as recently as Friday it looked quite minor, like flurries or snow showers. Earlier, it seemed like it might be a mix of precipitation.

This forecast calls for about 2-3″ for my drive the Bradley Airport (and Helaine’s drive home). And then there’s always the chance that flights will be delayed due to weather.

Depending on what’s going on later today, maybe I’ll give Southwest a call and see how cooperative they are?

My $222.50 ticket is now closer to $400, so they might not want to make an even swap. On the other hand, if they anticipate bad weather for Monday too, and how can they not, maybe they don’t want me hanging around in the airport.

Now that I’ve written all this, I realize that maybe I’m becoming a little bit of a wuss. After all, I lived in Buffalo. How bad can 2-3″ of snow be?

High Alert – Steffie Flies

We’re under a High Alert from the Department of Homeland Security. Hopefully, police and security agencies know what to do, but for us mere mortals there are few clues.

The official word is, “Go about your business.” Great. It’s like being told not to think about an elephant in pajamas. What else could you possibly think of after that?

If you boil this alert down to its essence, the only effect it’s having on the general public is to scare us. If we’re not supposed to do anything different, what other benefit is there?

Meanwhile, Steffie had reservations to fly to Florida and visit my folks. This was going to be our first experience with Southwest, after switching my frequent flier allegiance to them a few months ago.

Helaine and I never talked about it, but there was no point when we considered changing Steffie’s plans. I feel confident in the safety of air travel. Beyond that, it would seem a Southwest 737 from Hartford to West Palm Beach via Tampa would be a very unlikely target.

Speaking of Southwest, the report back from the airport was mostly positive. Helaine and Steffie got there early so Steffie could be in “Group A” under Southwest’s non-reserved seating policy. Depending on when you check in, you’re assigned A, B or C. A’s board first and have their choice of seats and overhead storage.

There had been a time when National Guardsmen inspected cars on their way to the parking garage at Bradley Airport. Not so today when you’d expect it.

Southwest is in the new terminal at Bradley and Helaine reports it’s bigtime. Southwest allows three bags at 70 pounds apiece, so Steffie was easily accommodated. Helaine asked for, and was quickly issued, a gate pass, so she could stay with Steffie while she waited to board. We were expecting good, friendly service from Southwest and weren’t disappointed.

Once onboard, in row 7, Steffie called Helaine to let her know things were fine. The next call came after arriving in Tampa. All I got was a reply to my cellphone text message. Without going into the entire message, I’m a loser.

It’s OK. It was said with love. I think.

Steffie’s flight made it on time. Now, she gets a full week of being spoiled (and listening to A&E at stun level volume) with my folks.

The house will be eerily quiet, and though Steffie and I are often at odds, I will miss her.