At the Rickenbacker Cafe -Friday, May 28, 2004 -12:41 pm-
So far, this is trippy. We don't fly out of CMH. Instead, we are flying a Public Charter out of LCK (Rickenbacker). LCK is an ex-(ish?)military base. It is... very odd here. The place is trying so hard to be a real airport. There's a cute little two gate terminal, a cafe that's just two vending machines, and a single check-in counter. The building is designed in that uber-modern industrial ethos that was so popular at the end of the 90's. Somehow, it fails to escape feeling like it's the 50's. Looking out onto the tarmac, there's planes sleeping casually at seemingly random stations. A DC-3 sets next to a civilian C-130 cargo plane. Off to the left, a row of DC-9's screens off rank upon rank of military heavy-lifters. Inside the terminal, ethereal strains of early rock are barely audible over the talking heads. The place is almost totally empty, furthering the temporal displacement. It's a vignette from a creepy art flick.
Oh, we're flying on a plane labeled "Hooters Air". Don't ask, I don't know either
I'm in Orlando now. Ass it turns out, we did not fly Hooters Air. At the last moment a different plane showed up and we flew on that instead. The flight was... interesting. First of all, it was odd to be able to roll straight away from the gate, taxi onto the runway, and take off. I can dig this no waiting thing. We flew higher than I've ever been before. Unfortunatly the captain never made the usual flight statistics announcement, but of the 2 hour flight, I would guess that we were in level flight for only about 20 minutes. We were high enough that the top of the sky was noticably black. It was kind of cool. 2/3rds of the way there, the cabin was filled wilth a piercing high pitched tone. Upon investigation by the flight crew, it turned out to be the emergency exit window. Dunno if it was leaking air or some kind of an alarm was going off. Upon landing, we arrived at two gates. We pulled up to the first one and sat in place for 30 minutes. The damn gantry was broken. So they hooked us up to a tug and pulled us next door so we finally could get off the plane. My parents met us at the airport and drove us back to the condo. I slept for the next four hours and am about to do so again.
Why do we go on vacations? It's the same stuff as home, just more expensive and hot.
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