|
|
1995 Eivissa (Ibiza): Fish Monger Back at Home |
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
1995 Eivissa & Gran Canaria: Back Home At Last
7 Nov 1995
It's 0830; I've just dragged myself out of bed. I should know better than to stay up until 0300. Dad's downstairs making coffee and slicing Alaskan salmon for our bagels. I shower, pack my toiletries, and drag the bags to the car. We head towards JFK.
John F Kennedy to San Francisco International Airport
The TowerAir Boeing 747-100 takes off and rolls to the left, giving me a great view of Long Island and then Manhattan. We're flying a straight line that appears as a curve on a flat map. Our route takes us up over Chicago, into Canadian airspace, and back down over Fargo, North Dakota and Salt Lake City, Utah. We're informed that the jetstream has meandered unusually south this year, so we'll be fighting 290 kmh (160 mph) headwinds, making our trip last almost six hours. It seems that during this strange condition the eastbound trips are correspondingly shorter (but of course not when I flew east three months ago).
The in-flight snack is simple and edible, but the movie is Disney's The Dumbo Drop, which underwhelms. The passengers and the flight crew are friendly, and conversations break out all over. Behind me two artists, separated by fifty years of age, are holding a heated discussion about agents. The younger one doesn't seem to like the idea of commissions.
My three-month trip is at an end. I'm exhausted and exhilarated. Soon I'll be back in the Pearl of the Pacific, in Baghdad by the Bay. I can hardly wait.
 Good-bye from Gran Canaria and Eivissa!
|
| Have you found errors nontrivial or marginal, factual, analytical and illogical, arithmetical, temporal, or even typographical? Please let me know; drop me email. Thanks! |
