Misadventures in Traveling

It almost wasn't going to happen anyway - so maybe I should still be optimistic.

The plan:
Join my wife in Switzerland this weekend, to finally meet the extended family.

The hitch:
I didn't get this month's rotation assigned until the last day of July, so I was unable to pre-arrange for vacation time to fly out overseas.

The miracles:
All the pieces came together at work, and I got my vacation approved for Thursday thru Wednesday. Unfortunately, the deal included starting my vacation while still finishing off my post-call shift (Thursday AM), but if it enabled the timing to work out... it would be worth having only a 6-day vacation with a zombied-out half-day (instead of the usual 7 days). And then not only did I find flights on the days and times I needed, I managed to secure a return-trip on the same flight my wife would be taking back to the States. And the icing on the cake, the price for my late-booked round-trip wasn't anywhere near outrageous.

The procrastination:
So I know I'm heading out to catch a plane on Thursday after being on-call, but by the time I headed in to work on Wednesday I had still not started packing. Par for the course for me. But not too atrocious - my flight out was scheduled to go at 7:30pm, so I *should* have had plenty of time to pack.

The beginning:
Actually started off ok. My night on call was not hellish, and while I did not get much more than 10 minute intervals of sleep, I did manage some shut-eye and felt functional. I was super-efficient at work during the morning, and actually got out of there around 9:30am. Plenty of time to pack, clean house, shower, poop, etc. I was somehow even efficient in packing and straightening up - got more done today than in the whole month my wife was gone.

The wrinkles:
As I am finishing the last little tidbits of packing and cleaning, I notice the sky getting dark outside. Just as I am considering heading out to walk to the "El" station, the heavens open up and Chicago gets a monsoon drenching. Wrinkle #1 - how do I get myself to O'Hare without drenching myself and my luggage? Ok, grab umbrella and walk to the El anyway. Wrinkle #2 - will I have to ditch my umbrella at the airport? Don't think they'll let me carry this spear on the plane. I guess not a big deal - I just never thought of them as "disposable." Wrinkle #3 - I wait a little while for the downpour to slow up, which it does, but now I am cutting into my safety margin for check-in, etc. Wrinkle #4 - what's that "tap, tap, tap" I hear before I head out the door? Oh, yeah - the west-facing window leak that never got fixed. I'm about to leave the apartment for a week, and I'll have a damp dishtowel on the windowsill in hopes of containing the flood and preventing damage to my floor and belongings. Screw it, I don't wanna be late(r).

More wrinkles:
Can't find my CTA pass. No worries, I'll buy a new one. Train pulling away as I start heading up the stairs. No worries, they come pretty frequently, right? Right? Shit ... does the Blue Line come by this station at this time of day, or do I need to take the Pink and transfer? The next train that came was a pink ... but some passengers on my side of the platform did stay behind, so I gambled and won that toss (broke my losing streak there - for a second). Train getting more and more full. I move in a seat and end up with my legs folded on top of my suitcase, with a leg protruding in the space for the seat next to me. "Sorry, no, I cannot move my leg" (as I point to the suitcase). He nods his head like he understands and then proceeds to continue slamming the oversized box on his lap into my right leg. Fun. And then all of a sudden I realize we've been at one of the stations quite a while. "We are experiencing weather-related delays because of the ... weather." The woman over the loudspeaker sounded quite nervous, and despite making the announcement every 5 minutes or so during our 45-minute hiatus, she still never managed to say it quite smoothly.

The train ride was made a touch brighter by the deaf woman that took the seat next to me when box-boy finally left. We had a nice little 'talk' about the weather and our respective trips, with her writing on yellow post-its and my typing back on my cell phone (since she seemed to have trouble reading my writing on her pad).

The catastrophe:
You guessed it - that nasty weather that slowed down our magnificent mass-transit system also caused diversion of many planes headed in to Chicago - such as the plane that would have then been loaded up with me and a bunch of strangers. Instead of noting this, however, the screens indicate that departure will be 1 hour later than expected. At first I breathe a sigh of relief - I'm still somewhat early, but this delay will let me get through security and get settled at the gate without rushing. Or so I thought.

The vein-popping:
Waiting in the queue at the ticketing counter, with about 8 or so other parties there, I start to hear murmurings about "canceled." The guy in front of me and the guy behind me in line appear to know each other, and talk quite extensively, loudly, closely - and with not such pleasant breath - right over my head. I step out of their way and effectively end up cutting in front of the guy, but do so after leaving room for him to advance, and slowly taking his spot when he stays behind to yap. More and more people show up - some filing in behind at the queue, most just milling about on the side of the only apparently-staffed ticket counter. Of course, no staff seem to be around, but this is where a few of the customers were set up when I had gotten into line. Then the most soft-spoken man EVER starts to announce things about the flight, "...working on it ... have patience" - but nothing coherent to me. Like he was just adding to previous details, but not reiterating anything for the rapidly-growing crowd. People start milling about more aggressively, stalking the counter. People rush up onto the scene thinking they are late and missing the flight, having no respect for the queue and effectively mobbing the ticket counters. The gentleman comes back and announces that yes, the flight is canceled - and the chances of arranging alternate flights into Switzerland are increasingly slim, because apparently today was not the first day of canceled flights in, and many other alternates were also canceled today because of the weather. He indicates that the airline will do their best to get people on equivalent flights, some maybe that night but most tomorrow (hopefully!). And then suddenly there are 6 ticket agents - dealing with whomever is in front of their counter. Slowly.

An hour later (no joke) it seems that no one has moved away. More people crowding in, more people between me and these public servants that have no idea how close i feel to snapping.

Finally I get ahold of the customer service number (not posted anywhere, not on my ticket) - but nope, that's actually a phone sex ad. Replace the 1-800 with 1-877 and I DO finally get customer service, and the woman talks around a resolution to my problem three times before i realize she's saying that I'm booked on the equivalent flight tomorrow. Relieved, I step back from the counter and decide to treat myself to some McD's - since it is now after 8pm and I never did have a meal yet today. The joint in the international terminal is of course packed, and - you guessed it - I get in the line that is lapped twice on both sides before I work my way to the register.

But tomorrow is a new day - we'll see how many ways I can screw up trying to leave the country.

:-)

GUT reactions

My sphincter was threatening to fail as I rode the bus tonight. The driver made the bus actually hover between taking a right and a left, drawing out my agony at finding out if I was going to have to repeat the episode described in the latest blog below (LOST ... IN ... IOWA ....), or if I would find myself dropped off in comfort a mere 50 feet from my car. It's even colder outside now, by the way.

We just came from the apartment complex I described in that blog ... passing twice (on the way there, and on the way back) the un-mapped park (I think actually called the "Mormon Handcart Park"). I felt queasy with anticipation and revulsion, reliving my experience, the utter frustration mixed with with mild agony and fear. And of course the urge to pee.

To the left, I would have plunged once again into the abyss of unknown destination, of walking in the cold dark. Of hauling my bag, white coat, and change of clothes as I marched forever forward on tired feet, wasting precious time and energy and delaying even more my next chance for a brief respite.

To the right laid salvation, that great concrete oasis with the promise of a rapidly-warming car, comfortable seats, shelter, and rapid transport to my ultimate place of rest (for this month, at least). My personal conduit to transient serenity, sanity, a full night's rest, and overindulgence in comfort foods. (Damn Hershey's "Nuggets"!)

The pit in my stomach continued to rise slowly, as he inched the bus toward the intersection, waiting on ridiculously slow motorists to cross his path. He floated toward the left, cut back to the right, edged left, and leaned to the right. All in a mere matter of inches as the bus rolls.

To the right, or the left? Did he hang a Ralph, or a Louie?

The Lady, or the Tiger?

LOST ... IN ... IOWA ....

So ... a little background:

I'm doing an elective rotation at the "other" U of I (University of Iowa) ... normally I'm a medical student at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. The places are somewhat similar, once you get past the yellow-black (Hawkeye) instead of orange-blue (Illini) color scheme. They have a decent bus service, which they need because parking is a bear.

On my first day here, I had to drive in to the hospital (instead of walking 30 minutes in the rain), and to park nearby had to pay $12 for their parking garage. I'm here for 4 weeks, and I'd rather not pay rent for my car almost equivalent to my own rent for the month. The options are sparse, with all sorts of restrictions by the University on which lots they can offer to people that live within the city, as opposed to people that commute in to work from nearby cities. They actually refused me a spot completely, since I was not interested in something for the whole semester, and am living "too close" to the hospital. How a 30-minute walk translates to "too close" MUST involve some sort of logic about the local bus service, which of course doesn't start running until after 6 am.

Upon turning to the hospital for a solution, they happily offered-up a spot in one of these commuter lots I mentioned above. Of course, it is so far from the hospital that they offer bus service to-and-fro. Fortunately, it even runs during the times I need it (as opposed to the local bus service in the city) - to get me to the hospital before 5:30 am and to get me back to my car as late as midnight (at times!).

---

Here's the set-up:

Friday was my first time taking advantage of this commuter lot (which they so creatively call "Hawkeye Commuter / Storage Lot" - storage because that is where students who drive up for the semester are forced to leave their vehicles). I find my way there and park next to a little hut that resembles a bus stop. All around, for as far as I can see in the dark before the dawn, is a huge-ass parking lot and this little hut that resembles a bus stop. As I'm checking it out, a bus actually drives up to this little hut. Ah, all is well.

I get to the hospital in about 5 minutes, and actually made it to the floor in time to see patients before rounds. A *bit* of a miracle there. So far so good. The day actually proceeded ok, as I went from case to case in the OR instead of drudging through yet another day of clinic. It actually looks as though I may be out of there before 5 pm! Ah, but alas - as a "sub-intern" hoping to attend this school, my role is as much to make an impression on the staff and give them an opportunity to get to know me as it is to learn and get exposure to the field. I do one last sweep through the OR and find a case about to start. Shucks. It was with one of my favorite docs, and it was to be a short case, so I didn't mind too much.

The case drags on, of course, about 2-3x longer than it should have been. I'm still out of there just after 8, so I am a happy camper. I leisurely head down to the floor and gather my belongings from the resident's workroom, and stroll out to where the bus should pick me up.

---

OK, now the story...

I get down to the bus stop and it is COMPLETELY DESERTED. Oookaaaay... I guess these buses run like every 10 minutes. No big deal. Let's look at the posted schedule, eh?

Oops. They DO run every 15 minutes, during "normal" times. Which I have, of course, missed. After 6:30 pm, it seems to revert to every half-hour. (All this I am figuring out after-the-fact, by the way, since the posted schedule reads a bit like tax instructions.) So when is the bus due? 8:21. What time is it now? 8:23. Sweeeeeet.

Ok, I can wait around 28 minutes. I debated walking home (28 minutes in the other direction), but that would require somehow getting to that lot to get my car anyway at a later date. I decide to wait it out, especially to make sure my car is still there and not ticketed for somehow parking in the wrong place. I do a little text messaging, I look at the route maps and schedules another 15-20 times. I consider going back into the hospital to take a leak, but figure I might get lucky with a bus coming off-schedule / early. Besides, I really don't have to go badly, since I've probably lost about 5 pounds in water weight during the last week and haven't put much in to make up for it. (My liquid intake averages about 2-3 cans of pop a day, and maybe a swig of water in the AM.)

A few random buses come and go, getting my hopes up, but all going in the wrong direction. I consider hopping the bus downtown, which gets me to within a 10-minute walk of the room I'm renting, but yet again I'm left with the prospect of still getting back to the car. I wait more. It's a bit brisk outside, being Iowa in late October... but not so cold that I would put my burdensome white coat on over my scrub top.

The bus finally comes. Oh look, right on time! Figures. Within seconds the driver is heading off to the commuter lot.

As we approach the lot, I notice he turns down a different road (Mormon Trek Boulevard, how's that for a landmark in Iowa?!?) than the way I entered the lot that morning, but I'm not alarmed since we had left the lot from a different direction that morning as well, and I knew that Mormon Trek was an alternate. There are about 7 of us on the bus at this point.

He drives through a series of convoluted turns toward (I think?) the lot, barely missing going up on the curb several times on the LEFT hand side (you, know, where you expect oncoming traffic to be coming from, if you don't live in Malaysia or Britain). Nothing looks familiar as he comes to a stop, and all but 2 other people disembark. I look out into the dark at the mini apartment buildings we're near, and then ask him if he makes another stop in this area. He says yes. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back down.

He proceeds to drive about 100 feet, and stops again. "Is this the last stop?" I ask him. "Yes, now I go back to the hospital," he states very matter-of-factly. Hmmmmm....

I disembark, and see I'm now on the other side of a square that is surrounded on all sides by mini apartment buildings. This is not a huge empty parking lot, bordered by other not-so-empty parking lots. This is an apartment complex. Ooookaaayyyy... I figure I'll check out the name of the road we're on, glance at my map, and then just hoof it to the lot. Can't be too far, right?

The road sign, it says "561-587" or something like that. That's funny, it doesn't sound like the name of a road. Ok, I'll just head down some sort of main road and eventually figure out where I am. Which way did the bus go? Oh, wait - that's right - I didn't see it 'cause I was too busy trying to look like I wasn't lost until I had a chance to look at my map in relative privacy, in the middle of an apartment complex in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of October. I put on my coat.

Roads seem to go off in all directions, at least from what I can see in the darkness. No problem - I'll just look for that collection of tall street lights that marks off a parking lot. Uh, yeah - easier said than done among all these damn trees. Crap! Lets look at the map again ... yup, I know I'm in one of two places... there are two groups of apartment complexes indicated on the map. They are, of course, in opposite directions from the lot I need to get to. Not that it matters, since I have no FRIGGIN' clue where I am or what I'm heading toward anyway. I flip a mental coin and start walking, all the while imagining that coin circling the drain. **EXPLICATIVES DELETED**

Ah, a main "road." I walk toward it. Ooh, look - a sign! "Mormon Trail Park" - wait, that's not on the map at all! How does that help me?!? I pass a sign facing the other way, and my suspicion is confirmed - I've just come from "Hawkeye Court Apartments." That IS on the map. It's about as far from the commuter lot as I can get, but at least I have regained a glimmer of hope that I'll find my way outta this mess.

I start the timer on my watch (for S's & G's - "shits and giggles"), as has been my habit lately, to see just how pissed I should get about my walk. It's pretty deserted throughout. As I progress I see collections of tall streetlights, only to see them spread out along the road. These are not in a parking lot. Despite being pitch black out there, I'm seeing far more of Iowa than I ever hoped for. I've got some low-grade urgency to pee building up, but thankfully I'm too seething mad to pay any attention to it. I keep tramping along, realizing at some point that at least I have stopped muttering and swearing under my breath. That's a good thing, as I trudged past some foreign students playing soccer (I assume) on an unlit field that was part of the sports complex I ended up passing. For the most part I was alone - which didn't bother me much, given that there was decent enough lighting, and I was in Iowa - I would have been more worried if I was in a real urban area and if I was a woman. But I guess that's a whole 'nother blog. :-P

Eventually, on the horizon, is the TRULY unmistakable conglomeration of lights of a parking lot. Along with a car every now and then. Goody, now I can switch my focus to wondering which end of the parking lot I'd find myself on, and how many little huts I'd come upon to search for my car next to. And here's me, not even technologically-advanced enough (or just too cheap?) to have a remote keychain, to get my lights to flash and horn to honk to beckon me.

By some stroke of luck, the first (and still only, to my knowledge) little hut WAS the one I parked near. That part of the lot contained only a smattering of cars, and I recognized my car's butt long before I could read the license plate. As I started to make a bee-line for it, another car pulls up one slot away from mine, and a young woman gets out and opens her hood. Keep in mind, I'm still on the periphery of the parking lot. My thoughts were, in approximate order:

1. that's sorta weird, at this time of night, in this location
   
2. wonder what the trouble is
   
3. should i offer to help?
   
4. well, this is sorta awkward, appearing like i'm headed straight for her
   
5. oh, geez - i hope she doesn't think i'm a rapist or something!!
   
   By the time I was within shouting distance of my car, another person had appeared from the car. A guy.
   
   
6. that's good, at least she's not alone
   
7. he looks like a pretty big guy
   
8. oh geez - i hope he doesn't think i'm a rapist or something!!

Long before I reach my car, I start digging for my keys - which is pretty damn awkward when one hand is otherwise occupied (with the ripping plastic bag of spare clothes, including shoes, in case I got drafted into clinic instead of the OR during the day), and the keys are buried in a breast pocket under a notepad, reference book, coins, tuning fork, pen, etc. Eventually I gave up on the keys, but did everything else in my power to give the impression I was heading toward my car, and not them. Once I got there it still took me suspiciously long to dig my keys out, but I think actually getting the door open and driving the car away made it convincing that THAT was the target of my walk.

It was just over 10 minutes from the time I was thinking straight enough to bother timing the walk until I got to the car. Of course, that consisted of angry strides in cold weather, lubricated by an urge to pee. In other words, I was probably walking a smidge faster than usual.

---

To sum up and conclude...

Yeah, ok, not a big deal. Just a dumb visitor in a podunk town, who wasn't familiar enough with the bus route and too proud to ask the bus driver about the lot position. It was uneventful overall, with the only real "misfortune" being my lost time. Not like I even had anything else planned for the evening. But when you're stuck doing something you never wanted to do in the first place, and it's taking longer than you EVER wanted, you really appreciate the value of your time more. Just one more reason for me to be so verbose in this blog entry - to give you, the READER, a taste of what I went through. You can thank me as you post a comment. :-P

On the plus side, I did discover a nearby strip of shopping including the all-important McDonald's and the good-to-know KFC, previously unknown to me in this vicinity, as I explored a bit on my way home. Nice to know there are more options for quick eats for us health-conscious types.

I'm do at the hospital tomorrow (Sunday) morning, and upon looking at the info sheet just now it looks like the bus doesn't even run on the weekends. Glad I bothered looking! At least it shouldn't be for too long ... I may as well pay for the garage. Then I'll go check out that lot in DAYLIGHT for the first time. Yeah, yeah - that's the ticket.

Spent way too long writing this, but it was semi-therapeutic. What this blog lacks in number of posts I'll likely end up making up for in length. Will that correspond to quality instead of quantity? NOT LIKELY. . . .