As I begin this week’s installment, I can tell you that I am flat out exhausted. Which means what little sense I normally make will be a nightmare for my editor to decode.
Why am I so tired? We just returned from a 6 day trip to New Orleans to help celebrate our daughter’s birthday. Except that 6 day trip became a nearly 8 day ordeal/adventure. Which included sports.
When we flew out on May 26th to the Crescent City, the Yankees had just conceded a home series success against the Baltimore Orioles. The Mets, their cross-town rivals, were continuing their sterling play. The Stanley Cup mid-rounds and the NBA Conference finals were in full swing. So, too, was the French Open. Plus Memorial Day was on the horizon, so that meant the Indianapolis 500 and the Coca Cola 600 were upcoming.
When we deplaned from our flight, there was only one piece of luggage—and it belonged to my wife. I had packed a day’s change of clothes and I had most of my necessary meds with me. So I could semi-comfortably survive for about a day; the hotel provided me with toothpaste.
I tracked the bags on the United Airlines app. Only one was reported to be in NOLA. The missing bag only had been checked in at Newark.
I called a number for missing luggage which United offered on its website. The friendly voice offered that the bag was surely on its way and that United apologized for its mistake.
As day turned into night, no bag appeared. A beautiful first night’s dinner at Briquette was marred by worries of when might the bag might show. Not the best way to start a lengthy trip.
That night, I waited about 45 minutes until a representative answered my call. At first, he was a little snide when I told him I had necessities in my luggage; he told me I should have packed them separately.
In the end, he proved to know what he was doing. He could not locate the missing piece, but he sent an alert to the baggage manager for him to follow up on it. We went to sleep feeling a bit apprehensive, despite the man’s assurances that this tends to resolve itself relatively easily. That was because he indicated that at Newark, United had been having baggage issues for months.
We awoke, had breakfast, worked out and then consumed leftovers for lunch. Still no bag. So we went on a stroll to the Mississippi River, watching the barges sail by on the muddy waters. Then we went to Lafayette Square for some serious people watching. Then back to the hotel, directly across from the National World War II Museum.
We strode up to the desk to inquire if a bag had been dropped off; United did not send us an update. When the man opened the door to the closet adjacent to the front desk, I saw it in all its glory. I was euphoric. Crisis averted. Deep breath and exhale.
The reminder of the trip was lovely. We traveled to Lafayette, Louisiana, home of the University of Louisiana-Lafayette Rajun’ Cajuns (formerly SE Louisiana State) and indulged ourselves with malteds at the last remaining Borden’s Dairy Shoppe.
On the return trip to New Orleans, we traveled on Interstate 10 East. We crossed the Mississippi at Baton Rouge, seeing the downtown and State Capitol on one side and LSU and its stadiums and buildings on the other side.
In the state of Louisiana, there is LSU and everyone else. The football stadium, large and dominating the sky, rises over a sports complex which is second to none. In searching for FM classic rock, I found the LSU Tigers baseball game instead. We even saw pictures of two baseball players on giant billboards, advertising for a local business. How do you say Name, Image and Likeness?
The remainder of the visit was superb. A dinner at the very famous and elegant Commander’s Palace was a highlight. We walked on Memorial Day at Audubon Park, full of runners, skiers, walkers and golfers on the course located within the path around the park. One golfer, clad in LSU colors, obviously mishit his shot and disgustedly threw his club into the ground. Later on a foursome of men and women, included a muffed chip by one of the males and a woman throwing her ball onto the green from a sand trap. I guess they play golf a bit differently in the South. Or do they?
When we left, we were a little concerned about the weather in New York. United had sent an email offering to allow changes to itineraries at no cost due to the weather. Solid weather guy that I thought I was, I watched TV and viewed The Weather Channel for information. On May 31st, the chance of rain for June 1 was no more than 40%. I rolled the dice, thinking we had plenty of opportunity to get home. I am glad that I avoided a casino and that I don’t play the stock market.
We left New Orleans on a beautiful day. Our scheduled arrival time was just after 7:00 EDT. All was fine until we were near the Chesapeake Bay. Our pilot alerted us that Newark International Airport had been closed due to weather. We had circled for nearly an hour when he made the announcement that we had been diverted to Washington Dulles.
That set off a chain of events which included holes dashed about a window to fly into Newark that night, leaving us to stay at the airport to sleep on the older chairs at the gate. We had no dinner—only water, Nature Valley Granola Bars (Oats & Honey for those keeping score) and small containers of Pringles.
Some were fortunate to make flight changes, grab a car or make it to a train. We stayed with our luggage, largely because ground personnel said they could not remove it from the plane and it would go to Newark with the aircraft. That decision was made based upon the first day luggage travails and the information about Newark that the agent had provided.
The times had shifted from a 1:00 pm to a 2:30 pm take off around 1;00 am. Sleep was fitful at best. At 2:30 pm, we dutifully boarded the plane, where we sat on the tarmac once more.
We were hit with a double whammy. Both Newark and Dulles were closed because of inclement weather. Passengers were irate. Updates came and went without Newark reopening. Even when the skies had sufficiently cleared in the NY Metro Area. I knew because the Yankees were in the second game of a make up day-night doubleheader without interference from Mother Nature.
After deplaning a couple of hours after our initial 2:30 boarding, we wearily reboarded the plane around 8:30 pm. I knew I would miss the bulk of Game 1 between the Celtics and Warriors. I wasn’t happy. I left Internet service with Jameson Taillon pitching a no hitter after 6 innings against the suddenly punchless Angels.
With a few more glitches and some rain in NOVA, we finally hit the skies at 10:48 pm. When we hit the runway, I saw the Warriors were ahead by 12.
I found that our bags had made it to NJ before us and I thankfully located the luggage in a gaggle near a carousel. The line to the baggage office seemingly stretched forever.
In the time that I left the plane until the time I was on the shuttle to the off site parking lot where our car stood, the Celtics had forged ahead. I blamed myself, because my good luck shirt was secreted in my luggage; I never thought I would have a need for it while flying home, and my Warriors hat had once again proven that if worn on a game day, it was a crapshoot as to its effectiveness in bringing me luck.
During our trip, I kept up with sports. We watched the Yankees in Tampa Bay, where they split four games. We saw the Angels lose the final game of a four game series to the Blue Jays in a slugfest. The local game belonged to the Texas Rangers.
We saw Game 7 between the Celtics and Heat. As great as he played, Jimmy Butler should never have taken a three point shot with the game tied very late in the contest. His blunder cost the Heat a trip to the Finals.
We watched the New York Rangers go to Raleigh and absolutely slay the Carolina Hurricanes in their seventh and deciding game. New York looked like a juggernaut.
There was PTI. Crowd favorite Rafael Nadal eliminated Novak Djokovic, everybody’s villain in significant French Open action. And yes, the Mets continued their torrid play, feasting on the Phillies (who fired former Yankees skipper Joe Girardi) and Nationals to pad their NL East lead. Buck Showalter may just get to the World Series after all.
Rutgers lost to a very good Cornell team in the NCAA Division I Men’s Lacrosse semifinals. Maryland would go on to win the title.
But the Rutgers curse struck again. The baseball team lost the Big Ten Championship game to Michigan. Even with 44 wins, the team failed to make the NCAA Tournament based on a low R.P.I. and weak strength of schedule.
This was a team which scored runs aplenty and finished second. An inability to beat Maryland and Michigan also doomed their chances to move on. It still felt bad and I felt for the team—I had an affinity for them after watching them play versus Minnesota.
We walked into our house at 11:53. I was asleep within the hour. Our journey had mercifully ended. We had made a ton of new friends who shared their stories and were joined in common misery. Some of those people may still be traveling as I write this piece. A Jewish octogenarian from Springfield, Short Hills, Miami Beach and now Potomac, Maryland en route to visit her 92 year retired physician brother in the Jacksonville area stood out. I met a young lady from the University of the South and we talked Sewanee Football (a founding member of the SEC); she was majoring in neuroscience and was traveling to London for a course at the London School of Economics. And I exchanged pleasantries with a member of the Mc Neese track team. #MrSocial.
My wife doesn’t want to see a plane for a long time. Don’t tell her I am already lining up our next adventure. Let it not include another night sleeping in an airport.
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