My Antonio or Across the Wide Missouri

We, my mother, sister and I, arrived at Dulles International Airport, outside of Washington D.C., around 8:30 pm EST. Because of some difficulties my Uncle Jim and his girlfriend Kym, or Kymie, or Kymberly, (author's note: I don't like any of those spellings, particularly the second.) had getting all of their luggage we left Hertz Rental in our Lincoln Navigator around 1:30 am EST. This put us in Waynesboro, VA sometime after 4 in the morning. Long day.

On my flight from MSP to IAD, I had the aisle and Lisa from Minneapolis had the window. One quirk of my trip to and fro was that I was on a fifty passenger plane on my longer flights and 130ish on my shortest. The 50-seater was also short and narrow; this made our flight attendant Lynn, Texan accent, even larger as she manoeuvered up and down the aisle. In response to a complaining passenger, she let them know, "I tell it like it is." I don't want my stewardess (weren't they first instituted to calm the male business travelers on the new uncertain form of transportation?) telling me like it is. I want her telling me how it could be, or how I want it to be, or about how I get to feed the rabbits. Her "telling me like it is" is the last thing I want to hear.

This is going to be a series about my trip to Virginia. I don't want to bog you poor readers down.