And So It Begins...
Three Fridays ago I kissed my crying Mum and tearing Dad goodbye to catch the 9:30AM flight from Pearson International in Toronto to Miami’s MIA. It’s a flight I’ve become accustomed to and contrary to the opinion of my friends and colleagues who travel, I actually enjoy flying American Airlines. My last meal in Toronto was at the TGI Friday’s All-American breakfast bar inside of terminal three. As the world anticipated the November 5th election, it was a fitting send off to the Bush administration – a plastic basket of disgusting sausages, shifty toast and eggs I wouldn’t serve an enemy – a bonafide axis of evil . I believe it’s the only TGI Friday’s in Toronto and an unruly reward for clearing the experience in second class citizenry that is Pearson’s in-house US Customs department. I sat in the departure lounge digesting my culinary misadventure, trusted Economist in hand, excited about the life adventure I was about to embark upon.
Two years ago I suffered from aviatophobia – a fear of flying. This might come as a shock to the friends around the world I have made since, but it is true. As a child, I flew thousands of miles many times. Family trips to Jamaica, Florida, Atlantic Canada, and the UK dozens of times gave me special experiences and memories that few children are fortunate enough to have. I was a member of the British Airways Flight Club and proudly displayed my membership passport and wings whenever I had chance. I also looked forward to receiving their magazine for junior passengers. My love affair with flight came to an abrupt end in 1989 when my brother and I, then aged ten and twelve, set out for a six week vacation to England as WorldWays Airlines UMs (Unattended Minors). We took off from Toronto late at night into a thunderstorm and as we made our ascent, I looked out the window of our L10-11 to see lightning strike off the left wing. A wrinkled black pensioner alongside me gave my knee a fearful squeeze and told me to pray to God (bless her heart). I didn’t sleep a wink all flight and arrived at Gatwick completely wired and freaked out.
The trip was both amazing and unforgettable (my gluttonous appetite for North East cream cakes left me twenty pounds overweight) and the flight home was made bearable by a fourteen year old super babe who kept my mind off the flight with her kind smiles and the attention she paid this fat and flustered pre-pubescent nerd (That year I had chosen glasses because they “looked like Grandpa’s”). It would be ten years before I took another flight, this time to Vancouver with my then serious girlfriend, B. As we sat in Vancouver’s smoking lounge waiting for our connecting flight to Victoria, a stewardess from the Toronto flight approached us. “Is your hand okay?” she asked B. “I saw him crushing it throughout the entire flight”. She gave B. a compassionate look and me a handful of Gravol.
In December of 2006, a dear friend emailed me to say his twin brother had had a baby. The three of us were old friends, going back to the September I came back from England and started a new school fat and unpopular. They took me under their wing, taught me to play American Football and helped me join the teams they played on. We were and continue to be close friends. The new Dad and I lived together in Toronto before he set out on his own life adventure to Turks and Caicos where he met the future mother of his children. My friend was on a break from school while he awaited his medical placement and had a month in Providenciales with his bro. It was an opportunity I could not pass up. I’d just begun a new job and had the money and so I booked my ticket, anxiously awaiting my next date with flight. A few years before, my friend had called me (in complete conflict with FTA rules, I might add) from his cell phone on the tarmac at Pearson as he was about to take off to Manhattan. He told me the take off was exciting because it was the beginning of the adventure. I took this conversation to heart as I very much respect and admire my friend and all his accolades, accomplishments, and adventures. Since December of 2006, I have taken twenty six flights with destinations ranging from Providenciales, Miami, Curacao, Caracas, London Heathrow, and yes, Manhattan’s JFK and LaGuardia. I still to this day recall my conversation with him every time I’m on the tarmac, strapped in, preparing to take off.
I also like MIA. We flew there a bunch of times as kids on our way to Disneyworld and I’ve connected there many times over the past two years. I like terminal D. It’s the most modern and it has a couple of Starbucks. When you’re nervous about something like flying or travelling, it helps to keep routines and traditions. I have a few in Miami. I always get a latte and a chocolate chip cookie from Starbucks in terminal D. I always call my friend Choter collect from a payphone. I always get Grey Goose at duty free and I always take a short walk outside to soak up the Miami sun before returning inside to re-enter security. This time Choter was not at her phone which was too bad because we always have a laugh. I ended up grabbing a soda and wings for lunch inside a seafood bar while I awaited my flight.
The flight to Curacao was smooth and easy. We flew down over Cuba, a route I’d not taken before. It amazed me how big it was from the air and how long it took to pass by. We then flew over Dominican Republic and I knew that we’d soon be in Curacao. We reached our final destination as the sun set off the left wing and the island below was lit up for night. The infrastructure in Curacao always amazes me and the view from the air at night is vibrant and at once exciting. We touched down just after 7:20 PM and taxied to our stop point and the door opened to the oppressive heat of the rainy season. I was soaked in sweat by the time I got my bags and passed customs but I was glad to see my friend Mick as I passed the arrivals gate. First stop a Snack for an icy cold Polar traveler. Then on to pick up my truck and off to Ribs Factory where I would be greeted by my new team and the best Ribs on the island. I’d arrived in one piece, the adventure was underway.
