Showing posts with label OH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OH. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Flying to Detroit

Grand Island
August 2013
Page 1


Kellisa and I planned a late summer vacation trip back to Grand Island, MI in early August. We made reservations to fly to Detroit and then planned to drive the rest of the way to Munising, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the launching point to Grand Island.



I was reading the Wild by Cheryl Strayed the week before our trip about her 1,100 mile solo hike of the Pacific Coast Trail in California and Oregon. Late one night, I went to Cheryl’s website and read that she was giving a presentation in Ashland, OH on the same day we were scheduled to arrive in Detroit. A quick look at the map and I was pleasantly surprised to see that Ashland was only 142 miles from the Detroit airport, although it was in the opposite direction of where we were headed.

Keeping our scheduled itinerary would be cutting it close to arrive at the presentation on time, but we didn’t have any other options. I decided the opportunity was too good to pass up when Cheryl didn’t have any speaking engagements anywhere in the Southeast on her schedule.

We had an extremely tight connection in Nashville. Knowing this in advance, I checked Kellisa’s travel wheelchair and used an airport wheelchair to get her from the ticket counter to the airplane in Jacksonville. This would allow us to get off the plane in Nashville faster because we wouldn’t have to wait for her chair to come up from the underneath of the airplane (we are usually last off the plane). All the airport wheelchairs are usually lined up when a plane arrives (even though most if not all won’t be needed). I carried Kellisa off the plane first, set her in an airport wheelchair and quickly proceeded to our connecting gate.

When we arrived, the boarding process already started. Since we always fly Southwest, we knew we were in trouble because they don’t assign seats. On most of our flights, Kellisa is the first to board and I can easily carry her to the front row of seats- the real reason why we fly Southwest. I usually place Kellisa at the window because too many people would bang into her arm and possibly snap it backwards as Kellisa waves to say “hi” with her outstretched arms without being seen.

We made our way down to the plane and the first half of the plane was mostly full. Whenever I purchase a ticket for Kellisa, I always indicate all of her disabilities and Southwest usually holds two of the front seats when we have a tight connection. For some reason, this did not happen for this flight and we came to a stop at the front of the plane.

A flight attendant stepped up once she realized our needs and explained the situation to those seated in the front row and in an instant, a gentleman on the aisle of the front row jumped up and volunteered to move towards the back (huge Thank You!). The middle seat was still open, so we were set. I always sit in the middle because Kellisa would be a little too friendly (touching, tickling, etc.) with any stranger who sat next to her because in her mind, they would be sitting there to be her friend. I held my arm around her to keep her arms close and we would soon be off to our final destination- Detroit. Everything always seems to work out when we fly Southwest and I’m never disappointed.




Thursday, August 1, 2013

Grand Island- August 2013

   Page 1: Flying to Detroit
   
   Page 2: Nothing Special

   Page 3: I Can't Drive 55


I Can't Drive 55

We were making good time on our way to see Cheryl Strayed speak. I was more worried about finding the location of the presentation because it was on the campus of Ashland University. I didn’t know how far away we’d have to park from the presentation site. Since it was summer there wouldn’t be many people on campus to ask about direction and I was afraid of getting lost in a maze of similar looking buildings.

Less than 30 minutes from Ashland, I was driving down highway 60 on a clear afternoon with wide open farmland in all directions and very little traffic. The speed limit was 55 and I was more than comfortable driving 65ish. Nothing could make us late now.

I looked at the GPS and we were now only 22 miles away and when I brought my eyes back to looking ahead, my stomach turned upside down. There he was, a county sheriff heading in my direction from around a rare bend on this rural road. My 65ish was really 70ish or maybe even 72mph. Before I could take the customary deep breath and acknowledge that sinking feeling, his lights were on and he was making a quick u-turn as I went by.

This would be the first time I was ever pulled over with Kellisa in the car. I didn’t slow down since that would be an admission of guilt. The sheriff quickly caught up and I was still hoping he was responding to a call and would zip right around us, but he never passed. Hoping it would hold our weight, I pulled over on the gravel shoulder. I was kicking myself for speeding. There was no way we’d make the 7pm start time.

I sat there waiting, wishing we could just get this over with as quickly as possible when the sheriff requested that I put the car in park over his loud speaker. I guess in my nervousness, I kept my foot on the break. Maybe he thought I would speed away once he was out of his patrol car. The thought never crossed my mind.

He slowly approached the car and asked if I knew why he pulled me over. I knew I was caught, so I went with honesty, “speeding”. He asked why I was speeding and I proceeded to explain about the presentation and how I really didn’t want to be late.

He then asked for my license, registration and proof of insurance. I explained that I was driving a rental car as I handed him my agreement. He said I still needed proof of insurance in Ohio. I pulled a tattered old insurance card out of my wallet from 2009. I explained that I still used the same company, nothing had changed and this was all I had. As he was looking at the old piece of paper, I removed my driver’s license. He was looking at me and firmly asked why I had two picture IDs as he took a step back. He seemed a little on edge as a hand went down out of my sight.

With my heart pumping too fast, I quickly looked down and realized the cause of his concern. Behind my license was Kellisa’s State of Florida Identification Card with her picture. I pulled this out and explained that it was my disabled daughter’s while I rolled down her back window. Up until this point, I don’t think he realized she was in the back seat. He took my license back to his car. While I waited my fate, I was trying to figure out the fine, hoping for under $400.

After seven long minutes (I was hoping there was nothing on my record that would create additional interest), he returned to my car and handed over a yellow piece of paper. Before I could read anything, he explained that he was just giving me a warning. As I thanked him, he told me to “slow it down to 55, it will drop down to 45 in a few miles”. I was both relieved and thankful as I put the car back in drive and started back down the almost lonely road to Ashland.



Who says, “getting there is half the fun”?