Sunday, June 07, 2015

How to Get to California

Starting at 10:30PM, one hour, more or less, in a taxi taking stock of Doha’s new architecture and construction oddities along the way, and wondering what will be different when Vito and I return in a month to recover Angela who is staying in the Q without us;

Two hours playing Brain Games for Clever Kids with Vito while waiting to board our Lufthansa plane to Frankfurt;

Five hours in the air between airports—me nursing a blossoming cold, Vito out cold;

Just enough of an hour in Frankfurt to find our gate, buy a chocolate croissant and transfer to our United plane for Chicago;

Flying with the sun, eight hours of coughing, sneezing, sopping snot and squinting while Vito busied himself with the window shade and whatever else he could play with without me. My eyes were buzzing. In the bathroom, I looked at myself and realized I had no idea what time it was. Vito wanted to buy a watch;

In a little less than two hours, Chicago was all baggage carousels, Blackhawks playoff jerseys, lines, neon lights and a hot dog before boarding the final plane for Sacramento;

Four more hours of my never-ending free preview of DirecTV commercials and crying children across the aisle;

Ninety minutes in the CRV with grandma and grandpa on our way to Rio Vista, we stop at Wal-Mart for cold medicine. Jet-lagged and lackluster after eating tacos, Vito and I crash and sleep until 3:30AM the next morning when I wake up and vomit. Vito wakes up and writes about it;

One day sweating in a recliner or in bed in pajamas sucking electrolyte popsicles.

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