Saturday, October 11, 2003

00:25 - Airbourn. Somewhere over Stephenville, Nova Scotia or Newfoundland of some such iced burg in northeast Canada. A bare third into the flight over the pond to Frankfort, then, after a few hours and an early morning beer, to Kuwait for a couple of days of sun and fun.

Left the house early in Minneapolis, and the delay on Chicago was not real severe, just the damned time zones cruising by at 600 miles per hour or so. Trying to determine how best to cram two thousand words a week into this government issued laptop.

Said my regards at the office Thursday afternoon. Nothing teary. Nothing real. I’ve been on this assignment mentally for a couple of weeks anyway, probably no news to Pete, who hasn’t seen me much in that period. Ended up out of there by 1500 (look at me, the big military time-monkey!). (Get used to it). I’m sure glad there’s some Neil Young on this flight.

So, packed most of yesterday. Brief snafu at the bank trying to get some cash, but not insurmountable. Spoke to the folks Thursday, then John and Joel Friday during the Cubs unlikely win. Joel asked, “is anyone angry at my decision?” The wife, to be sure, and her ma,… and her sister, but nothing from my side of the fence.

I type like crap on a cramped plane.

Donna was a trooper at the airport. We got there early and had a coffee between check-in and loading. Had a nice talk. She should be prepared, I think, provided she keeps her wits about her. She is somewhat fearful of being in the house alone, and may take a self defense class, or hire a security service. I left pistols both in the bedroom upstairs and the media center downstairs. She even went to the range with me last week and tuned up with both. The slide on the SW99 is still quite stiff (not that I didn’t try to send a few more rounds through it before I left, but,…) but adrenaline should go far towards the effort. She also asked where more ammunition was kept (among other queries), which may mean she’ll practice a bit more.

I did, however, leave her with a sick cat, one that can’t keep down any food. Really hope that it’s just a bad bug dinner, some of those pesky Asian beetles, perhaps, but it could be the start of his fatal demise. I told him specifically to live until I get back.

Damned cat.

The flight to Chicago was quick and tolerable. Once there I met a few of the others; Dean, George, and Brian, from the Denver and Muscatine offices. We engaged in idle chit chat for a couple of hours prior to boarding the flight to Frankfort. A nice 777, with nine seats per row. Sat next to an increasingly drunken Ukrainian who, once he drank the galley out of Heinekin, started to put a nice dent in the Bud Lite. No taste, too filling, just an Eastern European in need of drink.