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DEPARTURE ISN'T JUST AN ALBUM FROM
JOURNEY...
FRIDAY 7:40 PM
On the drive to the airport I try to feign a
happy demeanor, inside I'm jelly. The trip goes incredibly quick...I can't stand
the thought of leaving the kids and Ricki....and try to convince myself that my
fear of seeing my Dad has nothing to do with it. We joke that people will think
it's funny that I'm carrying a woman's bag, paisley flowers...it's Ricki's
suitcase. The airport is reasonably quiet, as we make our way to Northwest's'
counter. The short, stout, blonde woman behind the counter smiles and asks for
my ticket, the boys put my bags on the checking area. She went through her
spiel, and got to the part asking if I had had my bags with me since I packed
them, "yes", has anyone asked you to take any bag or package with you?
"no".....hadda be a smart ass...."but someone asked me the
time" she made me repeat it, and said seriously, "don't joke."
Excuse Me? " FCC rules, it's very serious." Puhhhhhlease!!!! Get a can
of raid to kill that bug up your ass....lady please.
I get my boarding passes and make my way to the gate, we go through the
customary, strip search at the metal detectors...it turns out to be the buckles
on my boots...the lady with the wand actually asks me what I have in my left
hand I don't want her to see, I laugh, "my palm......"
The gate is semi-crowded, they begin boarding
much quicker than I wanted. The plane is a smaller jet, not what I excepted.
Puddle-Jumper.....I am in the 2nd row....so our boarding is called first, I kiss
the boys and Ricki, lots of kisses to Ricki. I get half way down the ramp when I
run back for one more. Feel kinda foolish, but I don't care. People file in, I
wait. I'm sitting in first class - the travel agent didn't tell us that. I check
the tickets and ALL of them are first class. Don't know what to think about
that. I pull out my pad and start writing notes for this journal. The music of
the high powered turbines warming up keeps me company. Finally we pull away, the
stewardess seems to know the guy I'm sitting next to, his name is Pat and he
owns a welding shop. I pitch Ricki's web business to him, and we exchange cards.
The stewardess starts giving instructions on seat cushions and oxygen masks and
ohimigod we're all gonna die stuff, I half listen. The pilot tells the
stewardesses to prepare for take off, and we zip off like a rocket - reminds me
of the first time I drove Rick and Glenda's Corvette on the interstate...0 to 70
in "oh we're already at 100?" - the force pushes you slightly back in
your seat. Suddenly we're airborne, the plane is nearly at 80 degrees, straight
upwards, screaming like a steel-clad angel with hell on her heels. The plane
flips over to the left....and the journey begins.
I order a Budweiser, simply because I can. It
goes down quickly and my little voice reminds me of two things simultaneously.
ONE: I promised Ricki that I would stick to my diet while I was gone...and TWO:
Alcohol reacts badly to high altitude...zips right through the system! And I
haven't eaten since 10 am....by the second beer I'm nursing it hard. Pat, the
guy next to me, is talking to two friends of his in the seat in front of me, guy
and a girl. He says they're going gambling in Memphis and to watch Wayne Newton
tomorrow night. Cool. Wayne Newton??? I tell him about Dad. We are served
pretzels and peanuts and encouraged to take as much as we want. Pat continues,
that his Granddad lives near Memphis, and that he gets free gambling vouchers in
the mail for like $5 bucks, so he sends them to his Granddad would takes his own
voucher from the mail and plays. Never spends any of his own money. While he
talks I wonder if Ricki and the kids stayed to watch me take off, it would mean
a lot to me if they did.
It's a clear night, a full moon... beautiful
view out the window. I also am sitting right next to the jet, it's not as
pretty. We roar past the light show of the big city below, s-shaped roads, cul
de sacs, neighborhood, all lit up like a... "welcome to earth" sign.
At one point my ears pop, they've been doing that a lot, and the plane started
feeling like it was falling, not for just a second, but for a while...and it
wasn't like losing my stomach, it was a falling feeling...didn't go away for a
good two minutes...weird. Maybe it's because I just found out the beers cost $4
a pop...daaaamn!
Pat and I continue talking, I tell him I'm in radio. He remembers Jon James the
Outlaw on WIVK, and introduces me to his friends....one of whom is Pete
Micheals. I know Pete's name, not much about him...just that he does Traffic for
nearly every station in Knoxville. He's very nice, and asks where I am now that
I left the Citadel of Doom that my old station was about to become. (Dick
Broadcasting sold to Citadel Communications Corp. less than two months after I,
smartly, left the company.) I tell him about my current job as morning show host
on the big dawg, 103.1 WIKQ in Greeneville. He tells me I should go talk to Jeff
Jarnigan at Journal Broadcasting in Knoxville. Cool. They know who I am and
thinks I might have a job offer back in Knoxville. I remember Ricki telling me
once that I was a celebrity, that people knew me. I laughed thinking "how
ridiculous" I just a guy who runs my mouth...she's right again.
I stare out the window again, spots of light arrow towards the center of a city,
ears are still popping, guess we're still gaining altitude. Suddenly I want to
cry really bad right now. Keep thinking of Ricki, worried about her and the
kids...drive safely, hope my worst fears are wrong. The mind is the greatest
theatre of illusion.
I look at my watch, been in the air for almost
an hour now, hard to believe, 8:30pm. Slowing down, Memphis already?
"Nearly," Pat says, and the plane begins to angle downward. I've been
nursing my second Bud for a while, "I can't take this beer out can I?"
I wonder. I sure am feeling it, whoooooo hoo! The plane is leveling off now,
very little turbulence tonight...I miss Ricki.
Whoa, hard shift downward, engines whine up....then down....yeah it must be
Memphis...more lights, odd hazy lighted areas- a can just make out a car below.
Something looks like a tennis court from up here, don't know what or why.
Suddenly the speaker comes alive, "Ladies and Gentlemen we are 70 miles
from Memphis (then what's that down there?) the weather is clear, 43 degrees and
10 mph winds. We will be arriving at Gate Charlie 1, flight attendants prepare
for decent. The plane makes a hard left again, my side upwards, looking at an
incredible moon. Suddenly my mind wonders, why don't we just fall from the sky?
I make myself remember my physics from college: lift, drag, etc. When we
approach the runway I stare at the lights, the landing is as smooth as
silk...the plane taxi's over a bridge atop a busy highway...cool. We made it to
Memphis....now how the hell do I get to my next plane and where the hell is it?
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