Sunday, September 22, 2019
The Fromage Deception
I made it to the Sunshine State, via a sunny layover in Atlanta (above). I flew on Delta this time, despite my loyalty to British Airways, because it was easier to get to Jacksonville with Delta -- and it turned out to be a very pleasant flight.
The only slight disappointment came early on, when an attendant came down the aisle with a drinks cart and asked if we wanted "cookies or cheeses" to go with our beverage. I thought, "Fab! I can get a cheese assortment!" I was picturing a little packet with some sliced gruyere, maybe some cheddar, maybe even a blue, with accompanying crackers. So of course I said cheeses -- except they turned out not to be cheeses, but Cheez-Its. Which is not at all the same thing.
At least it gave me an opportunity to laugh with my seatmate, a lanky German kid who looked very tan and seemed like he might be heading somewhere to play tennis, or possibly golf. I never like talking to strangers who sit next to me, but I try to say something, just to break that wall of silence and not seem totally cold and rigid. So we broke it and then ignored each other the rest of the trip. Perfect!
I was pretty exhausted by the time I reached Jacksonville, having traveled something like 17 hours including tube, airport waiting time, and two flights. (Fortunately I had Tim Winton's excellent book "Dirt Music" to accompany me -- I read the whole thing, and also watched perennial crowd-pleaser "Breakfast at Tiffany's" on my transatlantic flight.) My brother picked me up at the airport, and I'm now a guest lodger at his house.
I'll see my mom today, to help prepare for her move to another unit in her retirement center tomorrow. She's not going to like this at all, I predict, but unfortunately it's a necessary step.
I'm pretty sure these next few days aren't going to be pleasant. I hope I'm wrong.