First outting

Thursday - First outing.

November 16 1995 San Rafael, Ca.

For the first few days after getting our dogs, when it came time to let them do their business, all we had to do is open the door that lead from our room directly onto the fenced dog run. Each room had a dog run. If I remember correctly it could of been possible to turn the single dog runs into one huge dog run because I seem to recall the trainers making their way through the runs, passing through each one via a gate.

It was very nice those first few times. Especially in the morning. All I had to do is water Gerard, and then scoot him out into the run. Whilst he was out there tending to his morning toilet I did the same. Fixed my hair, got dressed, even some times grabbing a shower.

I never gave much thought to picking up after my dog having observed my friend picking up after her dog. She went to GDB and if she picked up after her dog, it stood to reason we would as well.

All these years later, I’ve come to learn that while the several guide dog training programs have some things in common, training guide dogs, some of the programs are vastly different, in several shocking WTF sorts of ways. I am so thankful I picked GDB…

I knew somebody who had a dog from back east. Their school, according to them, didn’t teach basics of dog care. They hadn’t a clue how to groom their dog, had never seen a zoomgroom, standard issue at guide dog schools world wide, well. Okay at least the UK Canada and the Us. It’s a common enough tool every guide dog owner should have regardless of did your program issue one. Some schools, I’m sure this has changed by now, didn’t teach picking up the dog’s poop. And judging from some of the guides I’ve seen over the years, doing daily obedience drills with the dogs wasn’t pounded into the heads of students like it is at GDB.

I’m digressing slightly so hang with me…

We were trained that obedience was the foundation our dogs’ training is built on. And it can be the thing to “reboot” the dog if he or she isn’t minding.

I had to do this several times in college with Fleming. I’ll get into all that hot mess soon enough. But right here, say Fleming started to sea pats from strangers whilst guiding. To fix this I reverted to the protacall GDB advises each student to follow directly after coming home with their new guides.

This is 1. Keep the dog on lead or tiedown at all times. They have to earn the privilege of off lead time. 2. drills in obedience so you can establish yourself as the alpha dog of the team. It doesn’t take, or I should say for me it didn’t take much time at all to progress back up to where we were just prior to the bad behaviors starting.

Okay my off road adventure in blitherland is done. Thursday. We were talking about Thursday right? Right.

After dogs and students were ready for the day we went to breakfast and then to the loading lounge where we placed our dinner and supper orders, went over what was to happen that day and Lord only knows what else.

Shortly after oh about nine in the morning we harnessed up our dogs and lined up in the hall to get on the busses to head out to a nice quiet residential neighborhood.

Our goal for the morning was to walk in a straight line and focus on how it felt to be guided by a real live dog. I think we worked on turns as well. We had to of because we had to turn around and go back to where we started from. If we didn’t do turns I’d still be trotting the earth to get back to where I started from. *smile*

I was kind of a lot nervous. I watch d people head off and return with their dogs. It was rather emotional. Some people were teary eyed but in a good way, not in a sad, drink a whole bottle of boons farm screwtop wine you can get for like a buck someplace.

Several students had the trainers take pictures of them on their first outing. I did but lost the pictures in one of my several moves…

Finally, did I happen to say a good part of guide dog school back then was hurry up and wait? it was my turn. My trainer, the trainer who worked the most with Gerard in his training helped me to the starting point and told me to tell my dog forward.
“Gerard, forward.”

I am not sure what I was expecting. As a child, when my vision was much better I’d take our pet dog Maggie Mae on walks around the neighborhood. She was a dingbat, she pulled on the lead and didn’t know any commands. I figured it might be somewhat like that in regards to the pull. I also thought it mint be like being pulled along behind a speedboat.

Turns out it was a bit of both.
At first I was afraid of tripping over, falling into or otherwise being beat up by some element of nature, dirt, trees, cracked up sidewalks…

Gerard didn’t go in a straight line, he kept swerving in and out. I wondered if maybe he nipped around to a pub or something to fortify his nerves prior to our workout.

We reached the end of our sidewalk all too soon. I wanted to keep going but we had to turn round and go back so other people could do their first walk.

My trainer asked me how the walk was. I told her it was really cool! Save for one thing. I asked her why Gerard didn’t walk on a straight line like he was meant to.

She then pointed out something I completely missed but wouldn’t of missed if I had to use my cane. There were trees all along one edge of the walk with head high branches. Gerard. was. guiding me. around the branhes. No more hair styles inspired by tree limbs. I know the all natural look is in I get that but come on, really? Hairdoos via a random tree branch? Too much I’m not a nature girl…



When I realized what this very ever clever dog at my side had done for me. I was speechless. Not my factory default setting. I was on cloud K9 and couldn’t wait to do more walks!

The Flight and setteling in.

The first flight, between Wichita and Denver must of been more or less uneventful as I have no clear memories of anything of note that happened.

The "holy crap this is how to kiss your ass goodbye if the aircraft malfunctions or is highjacked" talk at the start did not make me feel good.

The thing that cracked me up was the bit about how, if incase of a water landing, the seat could be used as a floatation device. What? Okay, I was really bad at learning the states and how to find things on or use a map... But... As far as I remembered, there were no large bodies of water anywhere at all between Wichita and Denver.

Besides that, if I ever did crashland in some huge body of water, the sea let's say. My seat doesn't seem like much of a comfort. There I'd be clinging to a seat full of other people's farts, and I'd look like a snacky snack to any passing sharks. Shark: "Oh look yummy human on a cruton." Chomp chomp Me: Aaaaah! glub glub glub..."

The thing that worried me was all that vast land that wouldn't be very forgiving if an aircraft plowed into it at a high rate of speed.

Thankfully everything went off without a hitch and I landed in Denver without a scratch.


I had brought my stick. For only two reasons. 1. I didn't know how the guide dogs people or the ground help that was meant to help me make my connecting flight would know who I was otherwise. Oh I guess my walking really slowly squinting at everything and looking dazed and confused might of tipped of the guide dogs people. The ground help would most likely figure I had one too many of those little bottles of liqure. Or maybe too much preflight parties or maybe they wouldn't give a tinker's damn.

The second reason I brought it was to wack any odd people who might be in a cult that worshiped something really strange like rooster toenails, Father jimmy joe bob roy. or something like the People's Temple. They had good intentions, but that Jim Jones fella was just way mental. I wonder if the term "Jonesin'" has anything to do with Jim Jones? Well anyway I planned on using the stick to wack anyone who wanted me to have a smudgy tract about finding "Thee One True Way!" or anyone else that stood between me and my getting to guide dog school.

The ground help, some man who had an accent came up bringing a fold up wheel chair with him.

"I don't need that sir." I said, pointing at the chair.

"It is a rule you have to use it." He said.
"Well, I don't need it. If we have to use it, here you can put my bag into it."

We ended up not using the chair.

I made it onto the second and longer flight of my trip. I felt a little better because I knew the next stop, hopefully, would be the San Francisco airport... And then it was all four on the floor, no more flying for the next four weeks.

I don't know why I did, still do this. I guess to scare myself half to death or get a head's up on impending doom, but I listened to the ATC traffic for a while. Then I fell asleep. Bad move on my part.
My hair was braded and put up in a bun. It stuck out off the back of my head a bit. It was not comfortable to sleep on and I got a crick in my neck.

Finally hours later, which turned out to be hours earlier, damn time zones. We landed.
I must of floated off that ramp thing. Partly from excitement and partly from all the butterflies in my stomach.

"O god we're here. O God o God o God... Please let my stuff made it with me. Please let these guide dog people be nice. Please let my classmates be nice and not in a gang or be totally demented... Some blinks I knew were like that... Demented, not in a gang. A street gang made up of blinks? Wow. That would be a sight to see. Er ummm... my mind wanders into some pretty strange terratory when I'm nervous, as I was then.

Where is the guide dogs person? O my God. They left me and have gone to the school.

I felt like huddling into a ball under the baggage check shaking and sobbing until, having noticed they were one student short, the guide dogs would of sent someone to get me...

But this never became an issue as the guide dogs person, one of my trainers was right there when I got off the aircraft.

She introduced herself and I followed her to baggage claim. My bags both of them showed up. And I started to think this was going to be alright.

The trainer explained that she had to get other students and I was the first to turn up. She took me to the big bus thing and gave me a bag lunch.

Ugh bag lunches from large places are not most of the time, very good. A soggy name this meat sandwich, some wilted former fruit or a bag of stale chips and some discount soda I expected...

I was right. It was a sandwich. But it wasn't soggy or dripping with mayo or mustard or anything and turned out to be really good. There were some chips. Cheetos? Maybe? They were good. I knew I had come to the right place when I unearthed my soda to find it was Coke Classic. Yessssssss!

The bus was huge. It was about the size of the para-transit vans back home. There were side facing seats at the front behind the driver, like on a city bus, and then several rows of forward facing seats. In the back off to one side was. Gasp! a johnny on the spot thing. "Oh no!" Dunt dunt dunn!

The bag lunch was good but I knew, having heard horror stories from people that portable toilets were gross and stinky and just all around bad news.

Me being the nosey parker that I am figured I'd go have a look at this porthole to oder hell. I carefully opened the door, in the hopes I wouldn't unleash horrid smelling toilet breath out all over everything. Mentally my mind added the sound of a squeaking door hendge as spookey music started up...

Creeeeeeeeeeeeak.

but. to my happy shock, there was no oosing slopy port-a-john beltching up heaps of nasty evil toilet breath. In fact. There wasn't much of a smell at all It even looked like it had been cleaned recently. I was happy and knew if I ever did have to use that toilet, It wouldn't be so bad.

The seats. Let me tell you about these seats. They weren't the crap molded plastic seats you get on a city bus. They were fancy fancy, all cushey and everything. And if I remember correctly, they had seatbelts. Not too bad. Not bad at all.

I sat back down to wait on... Whatever happened next.

What happened next was some guard came to stick his head in the bus to tell me the bus had to be moved.

Damn! I thought. This guy must be blind his own self or something... The bus had in huge letters on the side "Guide Dogs for the Blind" on it. I could even read that. Sure there were no guide dogs in evedence but I was part of "the blind".

I told the guy that I was sure someone who could drive the bus would be along... Soon... He then went away.

I was right. Shortly after the guard or whoever he was came along I heard the snick scratch snick of a cane and people talking. Oh goody! A student! please be nice, please be nice, please be nice...

It was a lady. She sat across from me in the other sideways seat and introduced herself.

Turns out she had had a guide dog from another school who didn't work out at all. She said when it was good it was very very good and when it was bad it was bad bad bad.

Oh. I thought, I'm glad I didn't go to where ever this lady had gone. Out of the hand full of guide dogs I had met over the past few years, the GDB dogs were the best acting out of all of them. That's not to say the other schools' dogs were like Cujo or something, they were good. But there was just something about the GDB dogs that set them apart.

Over the next couple of hours other students joined us on the bus. Some of them were coming for a second dog but had not been to GDB before. Some had been but wanted to be in the four week non-retrain longer class. A few, like me were first timers all around and everybody seemed to be nice and not in a gang nor demented as far as I could tell.

This isn't to say we didn't run into some demented folks while we were on class, we did... Starting with Mr. Clueless guard person. But none of us were demented.

Mr. Clueless guard came back several times telling us that the bus had to be moved. We kept telling him we could not drive the bus and didn't know exactly where the people who could were at the moment or when they'd be back.

I finally got fed up with Mr. Clueless and on his forth or fifth trip by I said, "Sir? I don't mean to be rude but you've come by here several times. We've told you several times we can't drive the bus. Oh we could if we had the keys or hotwired it or something, but trust me. You don't want to go there. Really. We'd wind up knocking over the whole airport or something. See the sign on the side of this bus? If you can't make it out I'll tell you what it says. "Guide Dogs for the Blind." We..." I gestured to everyone sitting in the bus. "Are the blind part of this whole thing. So trust me. We will be sure and tellwhoever it is that drives this thing that it needs to be moved." I tried to be nice about it but he must of took it wrong as he walked away sounding cross. Oh well...

Finally some instructors or welcome staff or somebody from the school came and stayed with us. Thank God! As Mr. Clueless came back yet again. I sware he must of had a thing for this bus. I didn't understand what the big old problem was. We weren't bothering or blocking up anything... When I did tell the trainer/welcome person this guy had been by several times she said not to worry about it.

When he poked his head in on his most recent visit to our happy and quickly filling up bus I thought Oh good let somebody else deal with this guy.

I don't remember what the trainer slash welcome person said but Mr. Clueless did not return. Yea!

After what seemed like a thousand years everyone was present and accounted for, bags were stashed away and we were on our way baby!

I gopped at the cars, the multi colored hotel buses and giant purple mountans. At least that is what I thought they were. "Hey, what's up with those Mountans?" I asked. I was quickly told those were in fact hills. They were the biggest damn hills I had ever seen...

And then. We drove onto the golden gate bridge.

Wow! That was awesome! It looked just like how it looked on TV only way bigger. It was very very cool.

Finally finally finally we turned into the drive at the school. I heard many many many barking dogs. I got tickled thinking maybe one of those barks belonged to my dog. But I thought perhaps not. The dogs we'd get were class ready clearly and guide dogs aren't suposed to bark. My Laws how wet behind the ears I was.

We got off the bus and went into something called the loading lounge. That was a very very odd room. It had these really long booth kinda bench seats all around the edges of the room, stopping every so often to make way for the doors outside and the hall. We were to get to know this roomlet quite well over the time we were in class.

After a bit, after everyone had introduced themselves, we were shown to our rooms. My room 6A was directly round the corner of the loading lounge, first door on the right, straight, or nearly so, from the trainer's office. Ah hah, I'm the youngest one here. I bet they put me here so they could keep an eye on me. Or maybe it was just the luck of the draw.

A nice lady showed me around my room. The closet, the built into the wall dresser thing, the phone, the shelf with a light under it and a clock and talking book slash radio thing bolted to the top. What? Did they think we were going to take things? We found the bed, then the spot where the dog would be sleeping. The dog run. And the sinks, the people sink and the doggie floor sink. It all was very cool.My roommate wasn't hostile or a gang member o r demented. She was an instructor in training doing her 10 days under blindfold.

After a bit, when everyone unpacked and decompressed we met in the loading lounge again. We had the welcome to class lecture. I laughed to myself when they said no having sex while on class. Why does every blinky place have this rule? They must of heard about what goes on at yearly conventions of the blind. Or something. I laughed because I had been told there was a bloody lot of walking about and long days. Oh how little I knew how right that was to be. By the end of the first week I thought that no sex rule was rather useless as most people after going through a training day would be too clapped out to be in the mood for anything more rousing than say, falling into bed, sleeping through lectures or staggering about the releif circle for the dog's last outting.

After this they explained about the breeds of dogs and how people who wound up with labs would get one kind of grooming tool and if anyone got a golden. Me... Please? There were two that were class ready for our class, they'd get a slightly different one.

Then the bells started toleing time to eat.

I didn't dwell too much on the food but let me tell you this. The food at GDB both times I went was sooooooooooo gooooooooood.

We then had the rest of the evening off and would start class that next morning.

Preamble or how I became a guide dog user

When I was 18 several things happened that changed my young life. For one I graduated with the class of '95 from Wichita High School West. We were, I guess as Wichita public schools go, a small graduating class, 142 walked across the stage at Century II on 30 May, 1995.

I was meant to go, had actually signed up for classes at Wichita State University in the fall, but as it turned out, I followed my heart and hard head and went to guide dog school instead.

I had been thinking about getting a guide dog for about two years. I figured sighted teenagers get cars, why not a blind teenager getting a guide dog? Independence is independence? Right? Right.
But, I wasn't mean at heart and knew subjecting a guide dog to the zoo that was public high school verged on mean, possibly abusive, for sure not putting the wellbeing of any dog that might guide me around first.

I first heard about guide dogs, I mean really heard about them, I had always just known that some blind people use the stick er um cane and others use dogs. Well. I was listening to a talking book that told all about these things about blindness. It had an entry for guide dog. When I heard the description floating up out of the tape player I was hooked.

I hated, still hate the stick. It was so. not cool. It made me look blind. And it just sucked. I didn't like going out with it. Even today as I wait for training with my third guide dog I hate going out with the blasted thing. It still is not cool and makes me look blind. To say nothing of it always getting stuck in cracks and jabbing me half to death. Gah!

Oh, there was a time that I thought the cane was cool. When I was 12 and at the extended school year program at the state school for the blind in Kansas City I thought canes were cool.

I had a nasty habbit of falling down steps, thinking they were flat ground. Or thinking shadows on the ground were dangerous pits, holes that I could trip on or fall into. When I came in from outside it took an age for my remaining useful eye to adjust to the change in lighting and I was for all intent and purposes completely blind. Same thing at night. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, never mind trying to walk anyplace on my own hook.

I noticed that some students at KSSB, some who saw a lot better than I did, used canes. They did not fall down steps, trip over things, fear shadows or walking at night or in dimly lighted places.

I made up my mind. I had to have one of those canes. As all who know me well can tell you, once my mind is made up it is made up come hell or high water and if I want something enough I'll do whatever it takes to get it. Damn the challenges come what may.

I went to the travel instructor, having noticed a whole mess of white canes in a box in her office. I asked about getting one of those canes and how to use it. I told her more or less what I've said here. Blind in one eye and can't see out of the other... She gave me a cane to take to the dorm, not the one I'd end up with, just a test drive one to see what I thought. She said she'd see me that next afternoon for a lesson and to be fitted for the cane.

Oh! Happy day! No more bashing into things, falling down curbs, or up curbs for that matter, no more thinking shadows were waiting to swallow me whole. Yes yes yes!

That lasted exactly about four hours... That evening my folks called me. I was excited and told my dad. He... Said I didn't need a cane and would be taking one away from someone who needed it really and truly.

I thought about the huge heap of canes in the travel teacher's office and figured canes must come from someplace... If they needed more, I reasoned, they could just call the white cane factory or where ever the canes came from and just get more. It was the Kansas state school for the blind. Right? I did not tell my dad this.
I did however start to feel self-conscious...

I went for my lesson that next afternoon but found myself feeling like an elephant in a small room.

That next year I started to get travel training at school in Wichita. There was that damn cane again. And a teacher, several actually, who wanted me to use it. In public in front of God and everybody no less. Um erm? No.

I did all I could to not have to go to my weekly travel classes. Stayed home from school, forgot the cane, anything I could think of.

Travel classes filled me with fear and still make me uncomfortable. Going someplace strange alone for the first time? Yeah. I don't think so.

As time went on and I got to be a teenager my dislike for "that stick" grew and grew. I remember one day when I was in eighth grade that my V.I. teacher and travel instructor said I had to use the cane at home when I went out with my family. I had a huge non-folding cane with a huge ginormous marshmellow tip. A marshmellow tip is a huge blocky largeish marshmellow looking cane tip that's suposed to do something? muffle the shock of the cane getting stuck in cracks? I don't know. To my way of thinking it was the cherry on the look at me I'm a complete and utter looser cake.

My folks and grandparents Kennedy were going out to eat. Well so did I nad my brother and sister... I remember wanting to take the cane along just so my teachers at school would shut up about it and get off my back. But I was told "You don't need that cane, you have us."
This was my parents. There was no outranking them. So no cane.

It has only been very recently that my mom has encouraged me to bring my cane or, I'm guessing in future my new guide dog. This is a welcome change. If it had been like that when I was younger, I wonder if my life would of turned out different?

In the summer of 1994 I attended the college prep program at the rehab center for the blind, now closed, located in Topeka.

There were all kinds of things, braille, travel, that I didn't like. There were things, cooking and computers and my english 101 class at Washburn that I did like.

One thing that made the braille class more livible was the fact my instructor had a very very sweet yellow lab female. I was taken with the dog straight away and the instructor would let me stroke her dog at the end of the lessons. I asked a few questions about the dog, mostly though, just getting to pat her at the end of class was enough.

I started picturing my grown up adult self with some unnamed guide dog of my own. At that time I didn't have much of a clue as to where you got them or anything about them. I just figured dogs must be better than canes to get around with.

There was another instructor who ran several other classes and had a yellow lab male. She too answered my questions and allowed me to pet her dog. I knew to ask even without being told. It just made sense to me. I regarded people's guide dogs as an extention of themselves. I know I wouldn't like it if random people came up and started patting me without asking or warning so I figured others must feel like this as well.
Still, I think then the seeds of, madness were planted. I didn't give guide dogs much of a thought again until oh that next year, the summer straight after graduation...

I was back at the rehab center. There were the instructors too with labbies, male and female and then. To my joy a student. Who had a golden retriever female.

This new breed of guide dog was so, if you'll excuse the word choice, fetching. I had never seen a golden retriever. She was the most pretty dog I had ever lay eyes or hands to.

My student friend was also one of the kindest, sweeetest people I had ever met. I still remember fondly and have considered asking GDB, this is where her dog was from, GDB, Guide Dogs for the Blind, if they could put us in touch again.

I loved having a real live guide dog right there at the dorm. Unlike the instructors' dogs who I saw in "working" mode. I got to observe a guide dog team right around the clock.

My friend was awesome and not only explained about what went into caring for a dog, she even let me watch and sometimes help out. Never the feeding. I got to watch that but she was the only one who was allowed to feed or water her dog.

She also said having a dog ment getting up early or going out into the rain to take the dog out to do her business.

She told me about the school, GDB, she had received all her dogs from. That place sounded magical. I pictured blue sky day in and day out, palm trees, hippy-ish sort of out there laid back people. It sounded like the place for me. And, unlike the school in Kansas I had been looking into, everything was free. The trip out and back, the dog, the training, and, this was the thing to push me over the edge... They helped with medical expensis, leaving me to provide the dog food, grooming and other not hugely expensive things I knew I could cover.

No? Actually, what sealed the deal was when my friend let me "test drive" her dog. I was simply gobbsmacked at this dog leading me around things. Unlike the stick that was noisy and clattered at every step, the dog was more or less quiet. Oh that was that. To hell with college. I was getting one of those dogs.

I called Guide Dogs for the Blind on 31 July, received the information slash application packet on 2 August which I thought was a good sign as that was my sister Katie's birthday. I filled in and returned the massive amounts of forms and references required by the 15th of August. Had a home interview on 18 September...

I was sure that even after all this, I'd not be allowed to train with a dog at what sounded like the coolest school on the planet. I kept watching the post and kept not seeing anything with the GDB logo, back then a GSD in profile and shadow, on any of the letters.

On Friday, 6 October all that changed. I went to browse the post. Among the bills and letters and junk mail there was a big yellow packet with the GDB logo on it.

O my God! They wrote me back! Oh I didn't get accepted. But wait. It felt like a bunch of papers and a few tapes. Surely they wouldn't of sent such a huge package to say "no", they didn't seem like the sort of outfit to rub someone's nose in bad news. Still...

I ran into the house and tore into my packet. Tapes, and heaps of papers poored out onto the table. My mom asked what I had got and I said something from the Guide Dogs! A lot of something. My mom said she'd look at it and see what the papers said. She read out the cover letter.

I made it. They were inviting me to class in November. Wow. Me a guide dog user. Wow. Wow. woweee wow! Then something in the letter I didn't like. I had to go out to train for four weeks, which was awesome, and would be going to San Francisco. Way way beyond awesome. However the dates I was required to be away were 12 November through 9 December.

What! Were these people smoking pot! That was like over Thanks Giving! They can't do that. Everything is shut then. People have to be with their family. Really?

To say nothing of how the class also ran right on over the dates of my annaversery with my high school sweetheart and his birthday. Gah! I thought about calling them and saying I couldn't do those dates. And then I thought, there will be other Thanks Givings, and other annaverseries, as it turned out my boyfriend and I split up several months after I returned with my guide dog. I thought waiting all this time was hard. Here was a class date and everything so I best grab it when I could.

Oh wow me. class. next month. Aah! My travel packet came in on the 23rd. I remember my boyfriend reading over the packet and he made like they had written to say sorry, just kidding, you aren't getting a dog. Later that evening we were in a car accident. My first thought wasn't oh I hope my boyfriend is okay. It was. Crap! Now I'll really have to call and say I can't make it as I'll be in hospital, in traction no less. Great.

As it turned out no one was hurt, save for the other guy's car. Our car was dingged up too but the other guy, who Tboned the front driver's side by the tire, was totaled.

Finally the day before class came. I didn't sleep. At all. I worried about all sorts of nonsense. What if they lost my bags? What if I got on the wrong aircraft? What if I got lost and missed my connecting flight? What if the aircraft crashed? What if my classmates were hostile or didn't get on with me? What if my roommate was a gang member? It was California after all.

Finally it was time to go. I said good bye to my mom and my boyfriend drove me to the airport.

We made it through all the airport booyeah, a cakewalk compaired to now a days. Ugh I am not looking forward to any of this security blh blah..

We got to the gate and it hit me all at once. I started to cry. I wanted my mommy. I didn't want to go on this scary ass flight. Or to big as hell San Francisco. I didn't want to go to a 24/7 neverending, for the next 28 days, travel lesson.

My bags had been checked and I was expected to turn up at the other end of two timezones and several states later on down the day.

I got on the aircraft and sniffeled and sobbed to myself whilst listening to Nirvana and looking out the window. Then? Were were off...