There was a time, not long ago, when my frequent travel had gained me Platinum status on my preferred carrier. Not Executive Platinum, but good enough to get most of the upgrades that I requested and enjoy the big leather seats, the bowl of assorted warm nuts, possibly a real meal, and cocktails in a real glass. Then my employer, with complete disregard for my future comfort, cut back on my business travel. The following year there were few business trips and I got demoted to Gold status. After another poor year, unless I paid to maintain my current status, I became a nobody at American. I tell others of my descent to herd and there is no sympathy to be had. Goodbye special security line; goodbye preferred boarding and seat selection; goodbye no checked baggage fees...I am now at the back of the flying bus.
But I get to have an adventure. That's what counts; not the size of my seat, nor the warmth of my nuts. And, I love the desert. Driving from a desert possibly in bloom to a place still at risk for snow will be a time warp; we're driving from Spring to Winter. That is one of the great things about road trips; you are part of your environment, not flying above it. On the surface, you have choices. Be a willing participant, able to stop whenever and wherever you like to savor the moment. The landscape unfolds all around you and focuses your attention on the now. Next to walking, this is, for me, as connected as you can get crossing land. In the air you are sequestered, strapped down, hoping that time flies faster than the jet.
I fly Southwest non stop to Phoenix. The games that the airlines play to get a few extra dollars out of each passenger continue to be more creative. I spend the extra $25 to 'upgrade' to Business Select which does offer a special security line, assured first boarding and one free drink. It is worth it given their open seating policy. Weather has delayed the flight and the aircraft, a 737-300, the smallest of their exclusively Boeing 737 fleet, is full. Passengers boarding behind me are soon challenged for space to stow their carry-ons. And on a plane departing Austin after the annual SXSW (South by Southwest) event, aside from the ubiquitous roller board bags, that luggage includes many guitar cases, a score of skateboards, and even a saddle - so not only are the passengers shoehorned into tight seating, the floor space under the seat in front is gone as well.
Being one of the first on board gives one the pleasure, or dread, of watching the other cattle board and determining whom you would like, or NOT like, wedged into the middle seat beside you. The aisle and window seats fill first and the overheads fill faster. Each new passenger is doing the same calculation as they come down the aisle...who will I least mind being sandwiched between and how close can I have my bags. A petite, pretty woman chooses the row in front of mine. Behind her comes a beefy young guy in a yellow T shirt, who asks if our middle seat is open. I stand up to let him in and notice he looks and smells a little rough; apparently a bedraggled participant of the festivities.
On these tight 3 x 3 seat configurations there is usually a subtle, but none the less strategic, play for dominance of the slender arm rest. It is hot. Sweaty bare arms try not to connect during the game. As we takeoff BO boy pulls a dark hoodie from the pack at his feet and drapes it over his face to shield his hangover from the glare of daylight. He spends the next two hours trying in vain to sleep, flopping around like a fish in his seat. Today, time in this capsule passes thankfully fast and soon after, I find myself stretched out in the back of my friends' comfortable Mercedes sedan.
In typical John fashion, we detour to the Biltmore Hotel for a little people watching and cappuccinos. It is a beautiful property, this Jewel of the Desert, and on the way out they spot an open house sign at one of the mansions lining the boulevard. Like moths to a flame they are drawn to it and park in the generous courtyard. We are greeted by what at first glance looks like a mobster and his moll, but turns out to be the developer and his designer. Michael has somehow wrestled title for this and the property next door from the bank and is offering this 14,000 square feet for $6.5 million. John and Debra are professionals at this game and quickly confirm that the furniture and decorations are also in play. They disappear into the many rooms quickly inventorying pieces of interest. Michael and Michelle quiz me to see if I/we are serious players or just looky-loos. John has spied a couple of beautiful rugs that apparently came from the $27 Million mansion next door. There is a little negotiating tug of war between Michael, who looks like a former prize fighter, and John, but finally they shake hands on the price and off we go to the local Chase bank for the $4000 cash. Michael calls his men back to roll up the carpets and help load them, on top of everything else they've recently bought, into the Camper, and we head back to their condo in another part of this Biltmore property, which apparently Michael also developed. I get to see the beautiful remodel they have done to their condo, formerly owned by Nancy Reagan's mother. John said, "President Reagan crapped in our condo." Always an entertaining perspective. After a failed attempt to show Debra how the new flatscreen worked, a call to the tech squad, and a hug and a kiss, we finally set out in the loaded Pleasure-Way northwest towards Las Vegas.
The traffic is light as we head for SR 60. We stop for fish tacos at Anita's cafe in Wickenburg and drive on to Kingman, Arizona on Interstate 40, with its small withering remnant of Route 66 history. Its been a long day, so we check in at the Best Western and get a comfortable mini suite with 2 queen beds. Before turning out the lights John asks, "Do you snore?"
"Not unless I have been drinking a lot."
I am asleep in seconds, as I usually am - on the road again.