Well, we landed safe and sound in the port at Vancouver, Canada. We were able to take our time at breakfast after having to be completely out of our room by 8 a.m.
The last breakfast on the boat was very nice. We went to one of the dining rooms instead of the buffet. How’s this for a breakfast? Pancakes, bacon, sausage links, ham, fruit, coffee, and orange juice. Hey, it had to hold me over through a three hour bus ride back to the good ol’ U.S.A.
We received our official goodbye over the loudspeaker from our English cruise director. He signed off with his signature saying: “Wikki Wikki Wan.” Not at all sure what that means ...
We were hurried to the gathering room so that we could wait. There we received a sticker that read: “Direct to Bus.” Among other possibilities we figured that must stand for something like: “Dawdle Indignantly Receiving Even Catastrophic Tardiness To Become Upset Sufferers. Did I mention the whole hurry up and wait philosophy? Rampant.
Our color was finally called to disembark. We were enrolled in a special program to allow us to skip passing through the hassle of customs inspections, but it involved an unusual procedure. We were herded along a back corridor down a winding tunnel into the Canadian cruise terminal. Right in the middle of our trek were were told to stop and wait - hurry and wait yet again. Apparently an ambulance was on scene to pick someone up. It wasn’t our 90 year old lady, though. She was plucking along famously. We all got locked in a bus that had the door and luggage compartments taped shut. As long as the bus driver didn’t open the door in Canada we were now a tiny traveling portion of the United States. They referred to the bus as having been sterilized. Not sure how I feel about that. Especially when several people started in with coughing fits. That’s all we needed. Trapped in a locked bus with the bubonic plague spreading amongst us. Panic could ensue. Someone could try to break the seal. We would be arrested and ... horror of all horrors ... sent through customs. Aaaargh.
Fortunately a few mints and a pack of gum solved the problem. We got away from the airport with no problems. Driving through downtown I noticed two things:
1) The downtown Vancouver skyscraper buildings all had planter boxes. Not unusual, I guess, but these were all big enough to be growing fully mature trees. And many of the buildings had grass growing on the roofs as well.
2) There are Starbucks stores on every other corner. Guess Vancouverites love their coffee.
At the border the driver collected our passports and left the bus. Again the stress level increased among us. Would he return? Would we be stranded in a strange foreign country with no means of international identification? Is one of us secretly a double agent ... a spy among us? Wait. No. We are in. Back in the U.S. of A. Hey, that would make a good song title, don’t you think? As if to confirm our suspicions and calm our fears, we passed the football stadium of the Blaine, Washington, High School Fighting Borderites. We couldn’t come up with a satisfactory idea as to what their mascot could be, though. A border agent? A half Mountie, half DPS officer? Sigh. Whatever. We were in “Merca.”
We drove down a highway in Washington that had mountains on one side and water on the other. Meanwhile phones on the bus that had been stuck in airplane mode for the week on the ship began to come to life. I have never heard so many different beeps and chirps and dings all happening at once. My phone may or may not have been among them.
It took us about three hours to get to the Seattle airport. And that airport had yet another first-time experience for me. A Talking Water Fountain. As you bent over and pushed the button for the water to flow, a LOUD loudspeaker made a sound like you were gurgling the water. Pretty weird. I tried it three or four times. The extra bathroom trips later were certainly worth the novelty of the experience. And I wasn’t alone. One young boy was filling up a water bottle, so his gurgle was long as well as loud. An amused crowd began to gather. His Mom finally called out to him, “Leave some water for everybody else.” And the crowd went wild. Well, as wild as an airport would permit ...
We boarded our final airplane with little difficulty. Well, other than the plane that we were supposed to be on had some “maintenance issues” so they switched it out. The new one was kind of nice. Leather seats. A little more comfortable than usual. Well, until I tried to watch the in-flight movie. My little screen rebooted itself 17 times (yes, I counted) before it took hold. Then, just as the movies was about to reach its climax, it rebooted again. Guess I’ll check to see if it is on Netflix. Don’t tell me how “The Kid Who Would be King” ends.
We arrived in Dallas about 12:15 a.m. Touchdown was a little rough. I think our pilot was eager to get home as well. We bounced and lurched forward as he slammed on the brakes. Once we settled down a bit and began taxiing, someone ahead of us yelled out, “That was fun.” YeeHaw. Welcome to Texas.
Cary and Wayne called the remote parking bus to pick us up. And ... the adventure continues. The Winkle’s car wouldn’t start. It was completely out of gas. Wayne stopped a driver and explained our predicament. He promised to notify his supervisor. Hurry up and wait. The lot supervisor took Cary to get some gas. But when they tried to pour it into the tank, they realized that the spout had a hole in it. A paper cup nearby was co-opted, but the exchange proved too messy. The supervisor, however, assured us that the had a funnel at the next lot over. “I’ll be back in three to six minutes.” Thirty minutes later he returned. While he was gone, Cary got sick. Like throwing up sick. Like maybe he got that bubonic plague from the sealed bus earlier. When the driver got out of his car, he had something in his hand, but it wasn’t a funnel. It was a bottle of water. His plan was to cut out the bottom and use it as a funnel. Wayne stopped him and suggested he let Cary drink the water. The supervisor jumped back in his car and drove over to where Cary was, picked him up and took him to get another bottle of water. For the rest of us? Hurry up and wait. They finally got back, and surprise, surprise ... the makeshift funnel worked just fine. We got a few gallons in and stepped back for the moment of truth. Would the car start? Would we be leaving it for later and call for a Lyft driver to take us home? Cary sat down in the driver’s seat. He slowly reached for the starter switch. A crank. No. Another. Was that a different sound than before? Perhaps. Another crank ... and behold ... we have lift off. The car started. We all piled in and followed Wayne and Sheri and all of our luggage to the exit gate. Finally we were on our way home, right? What else could possibly happen at 2:30 a.m., right? Wellllll ...
And then came the climax, the crowning blow of the evening. The exit gate. Wayne drove right through and pulled over to let us catch up. Our lane had a line. Hurry up and wait. It was finally our turn. KayLynn was driving by now so Cary could recuperate a little. She handed off the ticket. And the attendant called out a required payment amount. But Cary already had pre-paid that bill online. The guy asked to see the email from the airport confirming the payment not. While Cary frantically searched through his emails on his phone, we noticed the flashing lights of a police car. Then another. Where were they going? Seems someone had randomly pulled off to what he thought was the side of the road, but in reality was parked in the roadway. Yep. That would be Wayne. It was too early in the morning to give him a ticket for obstructing traffic, though. There WAS NO traffic. Wayne did agree to move further down the road to a pull-off spot, though. Phew. Escaped that one. Meanwhile, back at the window, Cary still could not find his receipt. But the little man in the window was also making some phone calls. And finally, whoever he was waking up told him to open the gate. We were through.
We arrived at the Winkle’s a little before 4 a.m. Cary went to bed immediately. We got the suitcases in and followed him soon thereafter. Not in the same bed, though. Bubonic plague and all ...
Micah 7:18 says, “Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.”
Father, would you please heal Cary quickly and protect KayLynn and the rest of us from whatever he has? Thank you for loving us. Amen.
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