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Heading OutDecember 07, 2010 It's not really December 7th. That's the day I left for Norway, and I'm already back home. I've posted blog entries for the 15th and 16th already. I did scribble a lot in a little notebook while I was gone, but the interruptions were frequent -- and welcome, like who wants to sit scribbling when there are all these other things to do? -- and I wasn't inclined to log on and post half-digested impressions to the bloggery. Over the next two or three days, I'll post some three-quarter-digested impressions, along with some photos. The short version is that I had a wonderful time! Traveling from and to Martha's Vineyard is more complicated than traveling from or to places that aren't surrounded by water. My plane leaves Logan Airport (aka BOS) at 8:35 p.m., one is supposed to check in at least two hours before flight time, so I count backward: What's the latest bus that will get me to Logan before 6:35 p.m.? The 2:20 from Woods Hole. What's the latest ferry that will connect with that bus? The 1:15 from Vineyard Haven. That meant I should get to the Park & Ride -- the parking lot near the Tisbury dump from which a free shuttle bus runs regularly to the Steamship Authority dock. (For the non-Vineyarders among you, Tisbury and Vineyard Haven are two names for the same town. They aren't 100% interchangeable, but they're close) -- by 12:45. Voilà, my itinerary takes shape. I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn. I have plenty of time to get everything done. Hah. First I cleaned up my style sheets, prepared an invoice, and packed up one of the worst jobs I've ever had to copyedit: a 1,200-page biography by a first-time author who needed a lot more editorial help than she got. My plan was to have this done by 10 a.m., then deliver Travvy to the kennel and eight copies of Mud of the Place to Edgartown Books. Hah again. It took half an hour to compose an e-memo to the production editor because the book was such crap and I have no idea why it's gone into production anyway: No one knows it's crap? Everyone knows it's crap but the author is sleeping with someone important? Some people know it's crap but they're hoping to hoist the editor with her own petard? So it was close to 10:30 before Trav, Trav's gear, and I headed for Animal Health Care Associates, veterinary practice and kennel, and nearly 11 before papers were signed and Travvy settled in. Edgartown was another six miles or so down the road, after which I'd have to retrace my path and return home. That was cutting things too close: I still hadn't packed. I aborted the book-delivery mission and returned home. Good call. I did a pretty good job of packing if I do say so myself. I used everything I took with me and had enough room for the stuff I bought in Oslo. The one omission was extra pairs of long underwear. The pair I was wearing had to do for a week. It managed. I dumped the trash, emptied the compost bucket, and brought my bike and scooter indoors. By noon Malvina was packed. I said goodbye to Sarah next door and headed for Edgartown. On the way I decided that Cape Wind would be a perfect gift for Kristin, since it's all about politics, economics, and landscape/nature. But Edgartown Books didn't have it in stock -- because it's not flattering to the well-heeled environmentalists of Martha's Vineyard? Don't know. I dropped off Mud and bought two copies of Martha's Vineyard Now and Zen instead, one for Lynn and one for Kristin. Down at the Steamship dock, manuscript safely shipped off, Malvina locked up at the Park & Ride, I headed for the passenger gangway. Brigit T., longtime SSA employee who often works indoors these days, was at the ticket-taker's kiosk. "Guess where I'm going?" I said. "Somewhere warm, I hope?" she replied. "Norway!" said I. As usual, it got a reaction. No one comes out and says I must be nuts, but you can see the thought crossing their minds, mixed with curiosity: Whatever for? Checking in at Logan was uneventful. My electronic ticket wasn't asked for: the airline clerk got all the information he needed from my passport. Getting through security was likewise uneventful, but still a PITA. Once I'd made it through, I staked out a chair and the adjacent side table and tried to use Logan's free wi-fi. It took some fumbling around before I realized that you have to watch an online commercial before you can log on. Mine was for BMW. The sponsors didn't get their money's worth from me, that's for sure. I sent a few e-mails just because I could, and made myself a reservation at Inn on the Square in Falmouth for December 14th: except on Fridays, Sundays, and holidays, the last bus from Logan this time of year gets to Woods Hole after the last ferry has left. At first I'd thought to stay over at one of the hotels near the airport, then someone suggested staying over in Falmouth. Much better idea. "Hotel -- Falmouth" was the only thing on my to-do list that I hadn't managed before I left. I felt very travel-and-tech-savvy doing it on my laptop from Logan Airport. While in Norway, I read a Boston Globe story about a North Carolina teenager whose body was found in Milton on November 15. At first no one had any idea how it had gotten there. Turns out he stowed away in the wheel well of a jet that left Durham that evening. He fell out when the wheels dropped down in preparation for landing, but reports say he was probably dead from hypothermia and/or lack of oxygen before then. No one seems to know why he stowed away. My first thought was How the fook did he get anywhere close to the jet? How long does it take to climb into a wheel well and why did no one notice him while he was doing it? Going through the TSA rigamarole, I thought -- not for the first time -- that it's mostly for show. Any half-wise individual with criminal intentions will know how to beat whatever screening procedure can be implemented. How many potentially harmful objects and substances could be innocuously concealed in hand luggage or checked baggage? So at a moment when hundreds and thousands of travelers were removing their shoes and outerwear, emptying their pockets, and placing their laptops and carry-on bags in the designated tubs at airports around the world, a 16-year-old boy in Durham, North Carolina, manages to get himself across the tarmac and into the wheel well of a jet without anyone noticing. You gotta wonder. You just gotta wonder.
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