My First Flight Overseas - Day 1

Back and refreshed from my first overseas adventure, I realize that I cannot put off my beloved blog anymore. I will share with you a fraction of my experience in Ireland in this entry and hopefully much more of the trip after it. But before I can share of my wisdom gleaned and joy from Ireland, I must do my best to share with you my first learning that occurred before we ever stepped on Irish soil.

Generally speaking, I am a positive thinker - I can say with sincerity that I am a "glass is half full" kind of person. However, when I travel by air, I turn into a much different person - I am about as pessimistic and uptight as they come. I am a Class A “Worry-Wort,” constantly anxious about all those things that could go wrong. My wife, thankfully, is the opposite and can handle airports and all the challenges like a seasoned pro. At the same time, this strength of hers makes my weakness quite apparent and this trip truly exposed me for who I really am when it comes to traveling the skies. So, here is my confession - a glimpse into my mind just two weeks ago on the day of my first international flight to Ireland.

Our flight was set to depart Washington Dulles airport at 7:15 pm on Wednesday, November 14th. We were meeting my parents at the check-in counter for Aer Lingus (who flew to Dulles from Minneapolis earlier that day.) I took the day off to finish the last minute details - like looking for new shoes because the word from my brother in Ireland was that New Balance shoes were not a good idea for footwear while in the land of green. This tip caused a temporary rage the night before our departure as both Rebecca and I owned New Balance shoes - and I was crestfallen to learn that my favorite sneakers wouldn't be making the trip with me. So, after finding a new pair of Sketchers, we were set to head for Washington DC Dulles International Airport. I of course, did not want to take any chances, so we left promptly at 1 pm to avoid all of the unforseen problems that would surely derail us.

One minor traffic slowdown did affect our time, however, we arrived close to our destination in excellent time. By "close" I refer to the site of my first nervous breakdown, when the curse of DC loomed overhead and I was sure we were going to get lost trying to find the hotel we were leaving our car at. One wrong turn and a small verbal outburst later, we were at the hotel with plenty of time to spare. I was a bit wound up and my wife was already trying to coach me back to cool, calm and collected - but we both knew that it was only going to get worse by the time we reached the airport. Checking in to the hotel and arranging the shuttle went over relatively well, not smooth enough to calm me down, but well enough that we were on the van towards the airport in less than 15 minutes.

We arrived and began searching for my parents near the Aer Lingus check in counter. It took us a few minutes to locate, and it seemed every employee we asked was useless - but, alas, we met up and were ready to take on the rest of the airport in no time at all. I was able to communicate my unease to my parents, who sympathized because they were feeling the same way - so I knew where I had gotten this condition from.

Everything went smoothly from check-in until security, which was about 15 minutes. I was a bit unnerved because Rebecca and I realized the night before that her passport was in her maiden name but our tickets were in her married name. We were told that having the original marriage license with us would allow us entrance through everything. Somehow no one even noticed through all the checkpoints, so I was at ease about that at least. By the time we reached the biggest challenge of all – airport security – I was feeling better. I knew that there was the possibility of being searched and all that, but being that we were well ahead of schedule and the ridiculously long lines went quickly, I was okay.

My Dad and I took what appeared to be a shorter line while my Mom and Rebecca went to another line. The race was on. As we went through, I heard and saw airport security aka “them” talking about my bag and then saw them take it off for a closer look. I was not worried, it was probably an empty water bottle or something. I looked across and saw that we were way ahead of the ladies – which felt good. Next thing I know, I am putting my shoes back on and picking up my things. And then I hear this: “Hey, call the supervisor!” from one of “them.” My bag had made it through okay, but to my horror, Dad’s had not.

We stood and observed the supervisor arrive and get approached by one of them. Then, not knowing what was happening, the supervisor was showing my Dad a sizeable knife and asking if it belonged to him. I cannot describe the shocked disbelief we both displayed at that moment. I remember groaning, “Dad? What the - ?” and thinking that surely someone had planted this thing in his luggage. My Dad would never let such an item into his bag intentionally. This could only be the result of some cruel joke or terrorist subplot…and then something dawned on me as we both stared dumbly at the 5 inch blade and waved off any desire to mail it home – this carry-on belonged to my mother, and my dad was simply carrying it for her. Case closed – my mom was the culprit – and she was going to hear about it. Later, talking to my Dad, he clued me to his thinking at that moment – which, of course, was on par with my own: “I thought I was done for – interrogation room, here I come. I thought I might as well forget about Ireland.”

Despite all this, we still made it through security ahead of the ladies – but, because of our utter humiliation and numbness to the knife incident, we took our time putting our things back together. Upon reuniting with them, we wasted no time describing the crime that had taken place and that we were blaming it entirely on my mom for ever happening in the first place. Her response? “So THAT’S where my pearing knife was!” Ahh yes – she had been using the luggage previously to travel by car and had simply not thought to empty it out completely before using it for an overseas destination. Oddly enough, the knife made it past airport security in Minneapolis, making us all shake our heads in disturbance.

I was able loosen up after that, the strangeness of that incident had us all laughing to relieve the terror and tension it had caused. There was still of course the strain of catching connections and wondering about our checked luggage still ahead, but making that first flight to Dublin was the biggie by far. I was pleasantly surprised to discover the long flight would not be restless and boring by any means – and much to my wife’s disdain, my 1000 page book in the carry on luggage was probably not needed after all, for we were greeted with personalized screens on the seats in front of us containing loads of cinematic, television and miscellaneous selections to entertain from beginning to end. Once airborne, I could finally relax for the first time – and I felt my glass looking half full once again.

Sea Sick Sunk

There are certain experiences that happen in life that are joyful, exciting, exhilirating and downright amazing that you can't help but want them to happen over and over again because they are just that special. There are other experiences of such misery and pain that you wish had never happened in the first place - but you learned a great deal from it anyway. I wish my experience on Tuesday was the first one - but, it is most definitely not.

For the third straight year I went fishing on Election Day with a fellow church member and friend who rents out a charter fishing boat in the Chesapeake Bay for a group of 5-10 people to catch Rockfish Striper. Rebecca joined us for the second straight year, and I was looking forward to getting on the sea and taking in a nice catch of fish. I've never left disappointed before, so I didn't have any reason to doubt this year would be any different. The last two years the weather has been quite nice for a half day's worth of fishin' - cloudy the first year and sunny last year - but this year was unlike either of those. It was windy, rainy and the Bay was a rockin'. The ride out to the spot of Captain Billy's choice was rough - but that big and powerful boat had no problems crashing through the choppy conditions - and we even caught the blood red sunrise.

While on our way, I started to feel weird inside. My body felt weak, like I needed something to eat. I ate the blueberry muffin Rebecca bought at the "Little Sue" convenience store on the way down. It wasn't terrible - kind of messy. Then, I started to feel something coming on and it was not a good feeling. I started to gaze at the horizon, for that was all I knew what to do to combat seasickness. Then, we reached our destination and like a wave catching up to the boat, it all slammed into me and I felt completely miserable - I was definitely sea sick. I wanted fresh air badly but I didn't want to look like a wuss - so I waited it out. The 12 year old kid named Josh who had come along broke the silence with a groan that indicated I wasn't the only one in trouble. Captain Billy sprung to action and instructed him to get out of the cabin immediately. I followed behind. Josh, faired a bit worse than I - he was bent over the railing and sending chum into the sea pretty quickly. I on the other hand, did not feel well, but did not have the urge to vomit either. I was woozy - very, very woozy. I gave it a go though, I was there to fish dang it. I got going, but I was not well - Rebecca could see it all over my face. I stared out at the horizon, which only came into view every other second or so as the boat rode the waves up and down, up and down - the conditions were not great to say the least. I was determined to catch some fish and will my body back to good health - I was not puking and I was not quitting. It was going to be a long day - but I was leaving here with some fish.

My determination helped me through the first hour. I caught several fish and was feeling decent enough. Then I just felt my legs shaking - I knew I needed to sit and take a break. Josh was sound asleep by this time - and I wanted to shove him aside so I could get a quick nap in too. I had slept terrible the night before - off and on throughout the whole night. I was tired. Then I noticed Rebecca had taken a break too and was not looking the greatest either. We both managed to lay down and shut our eyes. After about twenty to thirty minutes, I roused myself and went back to fishing, feeling much better - not 100% - but better. I caught some more fish and was starting to have some fun again. Then the wind shifted and we started to get slammed again - the waves got higher and higher around us and we were up and down with even more tenacity than before. I hung tight this time though - I kept my gaze focussed straight ahead and did not falter. I held strong - my legs provided a solid base under me and I kept right on fishing with no problems. Then, through no fault of my own, my pole malfunctioned and I needed to fix it before continuing on. Big mistake.

I broke my gaze and focussed on the problem with my pole - I tried untangling it and had a little success doing so. I was getting close to totally fixing it and returning to fishing when my body gave out again - the sickness returned stronger than ever and I needed to lay down - immediately. I was so disappointed - I was doing so well despite the worsening weather conditions, but I could not stay on my feet any longer - I was closer than ever to losing that muffin all over myself. The throw-up feeling subsided but I was done fishing for the day. Misery had fully consumed me and all I could do was pray that we would leave soon. Rebecca managed to recover nicely and catch the biggest fish of the day - I was proud of her, but not strong enough to even glance at the thing - I was done for. My prayers were soon answered, and Captain Billy pulled up the anchor and set our course for calmer waters - we were headed to shore. I was happy - but not thrilled for that meant I was headed back into the boat's enclosed cabin for another twenty minutes - the conditions were too stormy and dangerous outside. I summoned up the last bit of strengthI had and saddled up in the cabin for the ride home. I just put my head down and tried to sleep - but my head just flailed around with each thump of the boat - it was not my idea of a relaxing ride.

We made it back and I was excited to be on land again - still quite sick, but I didn't throw up and I was not bouncing on the Bay's waves any longer - which felt good. As I slowly returned to normal, the Lord hit me with some great learning and realizations. It's a blessing and a curse to always be on the lookout for learning in life situations - especially the miserable ones, because you always learn from those. I learned first hand how important it is to look ahead and keep your focus on what is steady rather than what is shifting. I learned that no matter what the problem is - to not let myself get fully consumed by it or I'll lose more than I bargained for. I learned that despite our determination, sometimes things are out of our control and you just have to do your best to stick it out - taking time to assess yourself and do what is right for you, no matter what. I also realized how amazing that story from the Bible is about Jesus walking on the water and inviting Peter to join him - if the waves were anything like they were on Tuesday - I now have even greater appreciation for this powerful miracle and what it must have been like for Peter to get out of the boat - wow - awesome. That is the kind of faith I want - and I found myself learning the same lesson Peter did - never take your eyes off that which is steady and solid or you'll let your problems sink you. And even when you've been sunk - help is just a prayer away.

Shake it Up

So much of life is spent in the trenches of normal, everyday routines like working, driving, eating, sleeping - you get the idea. I happen to be someone that appreciates the weird, different and strange things in life - experiences or circumstances that may be uncomfortable, challenging or just downright odd. I have been feeling that itch again - that yearning to branch out, spread my wings and dare to do the different and shake things up a bit. Our trip to Ireland in two weeks is sure to satisfy this yearning for the unusual, as I will be experiencing my first Trans-Atlantic flight and international destination. I can't wait to see things for the first time and soak up an entirely new culture - and doing so along with my parents, Rebecca and younger brother Dave. It's going to be awesome.

A resume of "weird" for you to ponder - here's a sample of my history of shaking it up. I think my first memory of desiring something different (I'm sure my parents could think of several more before this) was when I decided that I wanted to have my haircut include shaved lines. I instructed my hair stylist/cutter to add lines to the side of my head - and, ever daring to one-up each of my visits, more and more designs were done. I continued this one-upmanship habit well into high school and college. I loved to dress up and push the envelope of personal humiliation - all to lighten the mood. Some of my favorite costumes have included breaking out the tights and suiting up as Robin (Batman's sidekick), an 80's Rocker, Superman at camp - and one of my all-time most memorable dress up experiences was in my Senior Year of high school when Ben and I went to school as an Olympic pair of Women's Beach Volleyball players - spandex, sports bras and all - it was an utter gem during the Olympic themed Sno-Daze week. The reactions of repulsion and laughter have all been well worth it - mixing up the norm, creating the ultimate in creativity with each year, and enjoying every minute of the craziness. I've tried my best to not let myself get too comfortable with any one costume or character. Free time with friends was often spent creating voices, weird characters to play out in public and of course - the physical slapstick comedic bits of smacking your face into a door, tripping and falling in front of a crowd of people or singing and speaking gibberish in a cramped elevator - all to see how far we could go without breaking character and busting a gut in laughter. Those years have a special place in my heart and the friendships that encouraged that behavior are still dear to me. I know that when around certain old friends, those desires return and anything could happen - it's living life nowhere near the norm. I love it.

I must say that now, even though older, wiser and somewhat more mature, I still have these inclinations and have no problems acting on them every once in awhile. Take Halloween for example - I cannot NOT dress up for Halloween. It's too easy - the nation recognizes and excuses people for looking ridiculous - come on, you gotta take that up and run with it. But, like all things - it's more fun to break out of the norm when it's not expected. I think that's one of the main reasons I've never been a big alcoholic drinker - it's certainly not expected to do these things sober. It makes it much funnier, in my opinion, when you know you are in the right mind and your "witnesses" know as well - nothing can be justified - you're completely responsible for looking like an idiot or acting foolishly - and it adds so much more fun to the mix. I am so blessed to share a marriage with such a similar goofball as me - we know how to keep things in perspective and make each other laugh without needing much to loosen up. I like being able to break out and make a fool of myself every now and then and not be penalized when I "tell the wife." She keeps us balanced by being the more normal of the two of us, yes, but doesn't flinch when I "have my moments" either - well, not too much anyway. How much greater is life enhanced when we can be ourselves with those we love and spend time with!

Where exactly am I going with this? Not sure really - just felt the need to mix it up and reminisce and reflect on the importance of being silly, light-hearted and risky from time to time. Life can be too boring if we let it grind on day after day without throwing in a curve ball and seeing what happens when we try something new. I realize that not everyone is going to start running into doors and breaking out into gibberish in elevators in order to mix it up, but I do hope that whatever it is that helps you to break free for a little while and dare to be different, that you do it. Why not? Whether it's trying out for a local theater production, traveling to new places, tasting a new food, going to a comedy club, taking off your shirt and flexing your non-existent muscles at the gym, messing with the fast food drive through person, prank calling a friend, deliberately scaring yourself - whatever, I say go for it. Doing the radical, rebellious and just plain different can be fun, inspiring and incredibly freeing and there is no time like the present to feel more alive.

"Only those who risk going too far can possibly know how far they can really go."