Indiana Trip
August 25
Now that I am well behind on my blogging activities, I have a plethora of potential topics to write about, limited time in which to do it, and consequently, some tough choices to make. I have decided to write about Eunice and my recent trip first, a long but scintillating topic. Actually, I could write a post just about yesterday's events, the day after returning from Indiana, but I will save that for another day. Meanwhile, the numerous little cactus needles sticking into my fingers will keep me from forgetting about yesterday. By the way, the only reason that I am here now is because my jury duty has been put on hold, and I have to check back tonight to find out whether or not to go tomorrow.
The Song of the Cicadas
Saturday (August 16)
Our trip started out uneventfully with a flight from our closest airport, Ontario Airport, at a convenient time, 10:50 in the morning, to Dallas-Fort Worth for a connecting flight. However, the airport experience at Ontario did include a nasty surprise. Now, we have to pay $15 for each bag checked into the luggage compartment. Only carry-on luggage is still free, which explains the phenomenon of passengers lugging large suitcases onto the airplane. The Dallas-Fort Worth airport is where things became messy. Since the airlines no linger feed their passengers on flights unless they pay, we were hungry when we got to the airport, so we went to a food court adjacent to our gate in the airport to eat something. By the time we had finished, there were about 20 minutes to go until the airplane was scheduled to leave. Eunice wanted to go to the women's room, and I saw her walking to the left of our gate. I quickly became worried about her, and went to look for her. Not being familiar with the airport, I did not see the women's room near our gate, and went all the way to the next one and back, only to find Eunice waiting at our gate. Then we got in line with the boarding passengers, only to find that our gate was not our gate when we got to the front of the line. It had been changed to another, far away gate. I had wondered why the sign at the gate said something about San Francisco, but was too busy looking for Eunice to enquire about it. We practically ran to the other gate, and the sign said "now boarding" so I thought we were on time. However, after waiting for the American Airlines employees to stop talking on the phone and to finish their scintillating conversations with each other, we were informed that we were too late for the airplane. The American Airlines employee claimed that there had been announcements about the change in gates, and that people had been looking for us, but we had experienced absolutely no sign of either. Honestly, I don't think the employees did much of an attempt to inform passengers about the change in plans, They seemed too busy chatting with each other. The change in gates was probably put on the large board showing departing flights, but there was no such board in our area, and when we did see it earlier, it still was listing the original gate as the correct one.
Subsequently, we were given a ticket on flight to Indianapolis that was about 3 hours later. However, it was actually about 4 1/2 hours later, as it turned out. (Why couldn't the other flight have been delayed for a while?) By the time we got to Indianapolis, it was already about 12:20 a.m. eastern time. That is when things went from bad to worse. We went outside to wait for the Budget Rental Car shuttle bus, and we saw various shuttle buses come and go and come again, but there was never any Budget Rental Car shuttle bus. I tried calling their office, and there was no answer, which confirmed to me that all of the Budget Rental Car employees had already gone home. Talking to drivers of other shuttle buses, we found out that the first Budget Rental Car bus of the morning normally comes around 4 or so in the morning. We decided to go into the nearby ground transportation center and wait until then. We ate some snacks while there, and watched the Olympics which were on all night on the television in the center. In fact, we watched the entire women's marathon race while we were there. I think that was somehow symbolic. The marathon race has always been my favorite running event, since it requires the most patience and stamina. The end of the race was rather surreal, as the Romanian woman who won the race was so far in front of the other racers that she kept looking back and wondering what had happened to all of the other runners. That only matched the surreal feeling of Eunice and my travel situation. Eventually, a Kenyan woman finished in second place, and a Chinese woman finished in third place, followed by another Chinese, and another Kenyan. The only American limped to the finish line in about 50th place or something like that. I find that Americans usually find it much easier to win medals by swimming or running 100 meters really fast. When I think of it, American's lack of success in the Marathon race may be rather symbolic.
Around 10 minutes after 4 in the morning, the Budget Rental Car shuttle bus did indeed show up. We stormed the bus and told the driver our story. He acted rather defensive, and blamed the entire mixup on Priceline, which I used to make the reservation. We had a similar reaction from the employee at the Budget Rental Car store, blaming Priceline for the mixup, and adding about $70 in additional taxes to the price listed on our invoice. We were very unhappy about the whole situation, but too fatigued to protest much. The first hotel we went to in our rental Ford Fusion was full, another was too expensive, and the Motel 6 employee told us to come back at 6 a.m., which is what we ended up doing. The good thing about it was that we got the room until the next day at noontime. We really needed the rest. We were able to sleep there twice for the price of one night.
Sunday (August 17)
Sunday was a really short day for us, as you can probably tell. When we finally got up and made our way outside, I noticed the power lines near the trees seemed to be malfunctioning and making a loud, incessant buzzing noise. I was thinking that someone really needs to fix them. We drove around Indianapolis for awhile, and by chance found ourselves fortuitously in front of the large Indianapolis Speedway sign of which Eunice has a replica on her purse. After taking pictures, we decided to eat at the Church's Fried Chicken restaurant that was nearby. Strangely enough, we have Church's Fried Chicken in California, but had never been to one before. For that matter, we also have Popeye's Chicken in California, but went to one for the first time in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. Oh well. Obviously, we are not usually fast food people. Checking out the fast food people in Indianapolis, it would seem that there are quite a few of them on a fried chicken and french fry diet. I am talking about some really husky people, especially the women, most of them African-American but also Anglos. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our leisurely stay in Church's Fried Chicken (or whatever it is called). Afterward, it was time for a short fishing excursion. I found a nearby lake called Eagle Creek Reservoir on the map, and better yet, it had a public park, so we went there. Once there, I quickly noticed the same electrical sounding buzz coming from the trees, only this time, I came to the realization that the sound was not coming from damaged electrical lines. I remembered reading as a child about a cricket-like class of insects called cicadas, which amazingly, have some varieties which spend 17 years in a larval state, before metamorphosing into adults which breed, lay eggs, and promptly die. I realized that these must be cicadas in the trees. A search of the internet prior to writing this confirmed that there are many species of cicadas in the Indiana area, and that this is a very active year for them. Since there are many species of cicadas, however, and some only take 1 year to reach adulthood, I really could not determine what type these were. The information I saw mentioned that the loud noises cicadas make are only made by the males, basically as a mating call to the females, and that each species has a different sound. Apparently, these were of the species that makes a sound like a faulty power line. If these were not the 17 year cicadas, it makes me wonder what it sounds like when the cicadas are "really" thick in the trees. It sounded as though there were thousands in each tree. In California, we have no such biological phenomenon such as the cicadas, so for Eunice and myself, listening to the cicadas was an entirely new experience. It was an experience which followed us around throughout much of our trip, especially in Indiana and Michigan. I was thinking that, if Ben Franklin had not gotten the concept of electricity from a thunderstorm, he probably could have from listening to cicadas. As for the fishing, one of our fishing reels turned out to be broken. Meanwhile, a couple of young fellows visiting from Chicago, Terrell and Israel, commandered our poles and unsuccessfully tried to catch a fish while we chatted with them. When we did manage to use the poles, we kept getting light strikes on crappie jigs (small plastic lures), but no fish. I think it was just short stuff biting, kind of like our day.
Monday (August 18)
Belatedly, we finally found the time to leave Indianapolis and begin our Eunice-mandated tour of several more states. Eunice has a clear goal of visiting each one of the 50 United States; so far we have probably been to 30-40 of them, plus she has been to a few that I have not yet been to. Have I ever mentioned on this blog that Eunice is a tad bit eccentric? Well, I charted a course for my father's old hometown (ages 10-18 approximately), of Danville, Illinois. We found it's older center still to bea nice and quaint place, but surrounding the older part of town were modern shopping malls, a convention center, and so forth. From there, we steered our way north to Chicago. The only thing I liked about Chicago was the waterfront area along Lakeshore Drive (and Barack Obama). We spent an inordinate amount of time searching for the Sears Tower, since Eunice has another insignia on her purse showing this building. Actually, it looked just like all the other high rise buildings in Chicago. After spending $10 for parking, we managed to make our way to the Sears Tower, donating money twice to homeless people on the way, one of whom asked me if I wanted to fight. There we took some pictures, and enquired about the restaurants in the tower. They were already closed, the employee told us. I thought that was strange, since it was only around 5 p.m. Finally, we went to a McDonald's across the street, and while we were eating, noticed an employee cleaning up the place and putting chairs upside-down on the tables around us. When we asked her why she was doing that, she replied that they close at 6 p.m. Suddenly, a little light bulb turned on in my mind, especially when thinking of all the homeless and untrustworthy looking people we saw in the area. Apparently, the crime in the area is so bad, that businesses dare not stay open after dark. Chicago as a whole, seemed downtrodden and in the throes of an active recession. Many of the freeways were badly in need of repair, for instance, to go along with the throngs of Chicago residents who seem to be suffering financial woes.
At last, we made our escape from Chicago. My parents used to live in Chicago, on Warren Boulevard not far from where the Sears Tower is now. My eldest brother was born in Chicago. My father went to medical school in Chicago and my mother went to college there. But despite these facts, I recall my parents telling me on several occasions, that the happiest day of their lives was the day that they left Chicago and moved to Denver, which seemed like a paradise compared to Chicago. Talking to my parents on the phone a while ago, informed me that life for the average citizen of Chicago has become even worse since they left there, even though there are more high rises and more big business interests there than before. I think that is pretty much emblematic of what has been happening in American culture as a whole these past few decades. Eunice and I made our own slow speed escape from Chicago in heavy traffic, and I was glad to get away for some evening driving to Michigan. We wound up at a nice Motel 6 in Benton Harbor, Michigan, near Lake Michigan.
Tuesday (August 19)
This turned out to be the only day that I got to do much fishing on this trip. Since the fishing permits were $7 per person, and we did not know how the fishing would be, Eunice elected not to get one, but rather, opted to be my "helper" for the day. With some directions from a Wal-Mart employee and a new box of nightcrawlers, we headed with a few twists and turns to a park on the St. Joseph river near where it empties into Lake Michigan. In fact, we could see Lake Michigan from the park. To make a long story short, the water was rather murky, as it tends to be in this part of the country, the fishing was pretty good, but the catching was only so-so. At first, I was not getting any bites, Then I started casting out farther with a weight to make the worm sink to the bottom. When I did this, I kept finding that the worm was gone when I reeled in, despite neither seeing nor feeling any signs of fish biting (what I call "Missing Worm Phenomenon, or MWP). Apparently, some small fish were managing to eat the worms without moving the line. I spotted a rocky area about 100 yards to our left, and headed over there to try it. I immediately hooked a good-sized fish which turned out to be a Smallmouth Bass, somewhere between 12-14 inches in length. I took it to Eunice to measure and check the Michigan size limit expecting it to be large enough to keep, since the minimum size for bass in most places is 12 inches. As it turned out, I had forgotten to bring the tape measure, and the minimum size for bass in Michigan was 14 inches, so I released the fish over Eunice's protestations. I went back to the same spot again, and within five seconds, hooked another Smallmouth Bass of about the same size, which I immediately released. After that, there were numerous missed bites, several fish that came off the line, and various snags in the rocky area over the next couple of hours. I eventually caught a smaller Smallmouth, and finally, a modest sized Rock Bass, which we kept to eat. I had been hoping to catch the elusive and delicious Walleye, which neither of us had ever caught, or some of the Walleye's smaller and more easily caught cousin Yellow Perch, but it did not happen. (Walleyes tend to stay in deep water in the summer, so they are usually caught from boats.) Since the Rock Bass (also quite tasty) was not enough for dinner, and since we had a hankering for Walleye, we looked for a restaurant which served them. Actually, throughout this trip, we kept looking for Perkins Restaurants, a chain which served Walleye for a reasonably inexpensive price in Minnesota. We did find a Perkins Restaurant in Fort Collins, Colorado in June, on our earlier trip, but they did not serve Walleye there. Not finding any Perkins Restaurants, we settled for a beautiful looking restaurant called Bistro on the Boulevard in not far from where I was fishing. They had both Walleye and Yellow Perch on the menu, as well as Whitefish, a white-meated cousin of the trout. Eunice ordered the Walleye, and I ordered the Whitefish. A short time later, the waitress informed us that they were out of Walleye. We told her that we had come there specifiacally for the Walleye. After some consultation, the staff informed us that a large party had ordered Walleye, but that they could spare one Walleye fillet. Next comes the reason why I am telling this story. When the food came, my fish tasted similar to Walleye, but it was more the size of a large Yellow Perch. Eunice's tasted nothing like Walleye, but rather, like a Whitefish which had been frozen for quite some time. Consequently, we switched plates, and Eunice concluded that the restaurant probably gave her a large Yellow Perch fillet, which tasted good and is similar in flavor to Walleye, but smaller. I tend to agree with her. We ended up feeling more or less gypped.
After dinner, it was another evening's long drive for Eunice and myself, this time, to the east across the southern part of Michigan. Eunice had some ridicuous plan to drive all the way to West Virginia, but those plans were waylaid by a shortage of time and an abundance of slow traffic as we crossed Michigan. Have I mentioned that my dear wife Eunice is a wee bit eccentric? We wound up at yet another Motel 6 in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Wednesday (August 20)
I charted a southward course, very southward, on this day of much driving. We went south through Ohio, through Cincinnati, into Kentucky. We stopped in Lexington, Kentucky at a Dairy Queen, which was about the only restaurant we could find, strangely enough, then headed east toward West Virginia. We wound up in Huntington, West Virginia, at the Huntington Motel, where the employees had various missing teeth, and stank of tobacco from the local fields, and most of the customers looked like victims of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or too much exposure to smoke at too early an age. I know that stereotypes are not supposed to be true, and are something to be ridiculed, but sometimes there is considerable truth to them. Most residents of West Virginia that we encountered appeared to be very poor, consistent with its status as one of the poorest of the United States. Much the same appeared to be true of Kentucky, as well. Clearly, tobacco is a profitable crop for the landowners who grow it, but this land could be put to much better use by growing edible crops rather than a crop which slowly kills its users. Meanwhile, coal mining, which is common in this area, benefits mine owners greatly, but seems to make for downtrodden and underpaid workers.
Thursday (August 21)
Eunice had told me that she would take me fishing this day, but it did not happen. At first, she said we could go back to Michigan and try another spot for Walleye, or whatever else wanted to bite, which seemed like a mighty long drive to me, especially considering that we had just come from Michigan the day before. Then Eunice suddenly realized that she was in great need of West Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky magnets to put on our refrigerator. I mean those magnets which are sold at tourist shops, that say the name of the state you are in, and something about the state, usually something humorous. Basically, we spent the day driving and looking for magnets, instead of fishing. First, we headed east, farther into West Virginia, to Charleston, then north into Ohio once again (at that time, thinking we would head north toward Michigan once again). The details of this drive are rather fuzzy to me, but I believe we did manage to secure some West Virginia and Ohio magnets. Then came the hard part. Eunice stated that we must go back to Kentucky to get their magnets, but there was no easy or short route from where we were in Ohio, to Kentucky, where those all-important Kentucky magnets were waiting for us. (Did I mention that Eunice is rather eccentric yet?) After several hours of driving through surprisingly scenic Ohio countryside, where many varieties of wildflowers were in bloom, and stopping twice to take pictures of them, we found our way into the shale-bound, hilly, and even more scenic Kentucky countryside. Eventually, we found a store which sold Kentucky magnets. I probably don't need to tell you what a relief that was to me. I actually picked one magnet myself, because it was really funny. It was one of those "you know you're from Kentucky when" type of humorous collections. For instance, "you know you're from Kentucky when you think a deer crossing sign is pointing the way to the best hunting." Before we left Kentucky, we ate dinner at a chain restaurant that I kept seeing on the trip called Bob Evans, not expecting much. Actually, it was pretty good, although all the employees were gathered around the cash register gossiping about another employee who had recently been fired. I ordered potato (flake) encrusted Sole, which gave Eunice and myself an idea for another way to cook fish, since it was quite tasty, and kept the Sole from falling apart. From Kentucky, the driving only became more stressful. We headed back into Ohio, I thought to find a hotel for the night, since it was already 9 p.m. or so by that time. By decree of Eunice, this was not to be the case. She was so fond of Indianapolis, especially the Motel 6 we had stayed at, that she was hellbent on getting there that night. Besides, she figured, Michigan and Illinois were only a hop, step, and a jump away from Indianapolis, and she really, really needed their magnets. We wound up getting to Indianapolis around 1 in the morning, and going to sleep around 1:30 a.m. But at least, we had rented the room for 2 nights.
Friday (August 22)
Now, it was time to do that hop, step and jump thing to Michigan and Illinois once again in order to get those magnets which somehow had slipped Eunice's mind the first time we were there. As I emphatically told Eunice, the trip there was not exactly a quick one, but despite the fact that we had already made the trip once, Eunice seemed convinced that Michigan was only about a one hour drive from Indianapolis. Apparently, her memory of our first trip to Michigan had faded in the four days since then. A very fortuitious event happened on the way north to Michigan from Indianapolis. A little ways north of Indianapolis, I noticed a Travel Center (or whatever it's called), and decided to check it for magnets. While Eunice was voicing the opinion that this place probably only had food, not magnets, I noticed a large cache of magnets, not only Indiana ones, which Eunice also needed, but magnets for every state, alphabetized by state. However, a few states were sold out, including Illinois (popular by virtue of its proximity and large population, I am guessing). Eunice bought something like thirty magnets, representing almost as many states. She bought so many that she even got a discount on them. Alas, there was no Illinois magnet, and moreover the various magnets were rather simplistic and beautiful enough to do justice to the various states. Thus, we had to press onward to Michigan, and Illinois, in search of special refrigerator magnets. (Have I mentioned that Eunice, as lovely and thoughtful as she is, is a bit on the eccentric side?) Eventually, we found another Travel Center in Michigan which had nice and special Michigan magnets. Then came the hard part, heading back to the Chicago area for Illinois magnets. On the way there (in Indiana), we stopped for dinner at a restaurant called Longhorn's Steakhouse for one last try at finding bona fide Walleye. I should have known better from the name. It was a Texas style steakhouse, with little chance of serving the desired dish, but we were too frazzled from our driving and magnet search to try another place. By the way, there was the largest Bass Pro Shop I had ever seen visible from the restaurant parking lot, and there were quite a few cars there. Eunice suggested that there might also be a seafood restaurant in the same building, and I thought she might be correct considering the size of the building and the number of cars there, but once again, I was too frazzled to go there to check.
After dinner, we headed Illinois way, looking for some sort of Travel Center on the Illinois side of the border with Indiana, which might have Illinois magnets. Alas, we could find no such center. This area was basically the suburban Chicago area, so it was apparently too urban to have such a place. Eventually, we left the freeway for some road which seemed to have quite a few gas stations, along with much traffic. I was hoping that at least one place along the street would have Illinois magnets. After wasting an hour or so checking several gas stations and even a CVS Pharmacy and a Walgreen's Pharmacy, I finally informed Eunice rather firmly that our search for Illinois magnets was over for the night, since it was already around 10 p.m. and we had around a 2-3 hour drive ahead of us in order to go back to our motel. On the way back, Eunice found a Travel Center, so we stopped there. It turned out to be the same one we had gone to earlier in the day. I should have known better, but I was very road weary by this time. We made it to bed around 1 a.m., much later than I had wanted to.
Saturday (August 23)
Eunice roused me from my sleep around 8:30, or perhaps it was 9:30 and just seemed like 8:30. Anyway, she was anxious to get to the airport, and did not want any more nasty surprises. I had to admit I agreed with her. As it turned out, we made it to the airport very early, as in several hours early. I had the impression that our airplane was scheduled for takeoff at 1:30 p.m., but the actual time of takeoff was scheduled for 2:25 p.m. We had gotten to the airport around 11 a.m., so we had lots of waiting to do. But that was okay with us, just as long as there were no more nasty airport surprises. I was just glad there were no travel incidents such as accidents, flat tires, or traffic citation. As it turned out, there were no further nasty surprises that day, either. The only problem was that I was much more tired than when I began the trip. According to Eunice, that is the way vacations are supposed to be, at least according to the Chinese. But I have to wonder about the concept of vacations when they end up making people more fatigued by the time they return, than when they started. I guess it's really about the experiences on the way, and the memories that they leave a person with. The trip home was uneventful. We stayed virtually glued to departure gate at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport for the two hours or so until our flight back to Ontario. Naturally, this time, the gate was not changed.
Eunice's friend Lee-Long and her husband came to pick us up, and Eunice and Lee-Long chatted about the trip on the way back. When I got home, Gorjilina and Smurfull, two of our cats, were waiting for us, and sang our praises as we greeted them. They appeared to have been very worried about us. When I went inside the house, I turned on the television, only to see a fuzzy image of the men's Marathon race at the Beijing Olympics. A Kenyon named Sammy Wanjiru pulled away from the pack a little while later, and won the race in Olympic record time. Surprisingly to me, that was the first time a Kenyan had won the Marathon race at the Olympics. Meanwhile, I thought of a fellow named Barack Obama who had a Kenyan father, and who was just entering the stretch run of another sort of Marathon race, a political one. Perhaps it was a good sign that a Kenyan had won the race at the Olympics. Now, it is Obama's turn to win the political Marathon of the 2008 presidential election. Meanwhile, the American runners came in 9th and 10th place, which considering the number of runners in the Marathon race, is not bad, but no winners. I find it curious how often runners from the same nation finish adjacent to each other in the Marathon race. One Ethiopian even overtook the other near the finish line for the bronze medal. I guess that says something about moving forward, or not moving forward, together as a nation.
Thus ends my Marathon tour of the "Midwest" and my Marathon post regarding this trip. Oh, we do have pictures, but they are still on the camera. I will put some on this blog in the coming days.
August 15
Free Ticket to Indiana
Greetings to all Box-Free Bloggers out in Cyberland. I have been inundated in work these past few days (grading, perparing for trip etc), which is a shame, since I have so many good topics to write about, including the fact that two of my neighbors, one directly across the street, the other, next door down the street, have both suddenly moved within the past couple of weeks. I think both houses were foreclosed on because they could not make payments. The neighbors down the street told Eunice they couldn't make payments; the one across the street I am not sure about, but find it strange that they suddenly moved out after living there around 10 years, without putting up a for sale sign. And the Bushies tell us everything is fine in Rove-World while they orchestrate conflicts with the Soviet Union, apparently to help John McCain's cause. Karl Rove was meeting with the leader of the nation of Georgia earlier this summer, probably encouraging him to invade South Ossetia, while Rove was being in contempt of court by refusing to testify here in the U.S.
Anyway, Eunice and I went through a number of steps, and to my surprise, managed to get a free airplane ticket from JCPenney. That is, we bought one ticket, and got the second one free. Of course, we could only go to certain places where there were available tickets. We wanted to go to some state we had not been to before, but we had to ask about something like 10 different places, until the agent finally told us that some flights to Indianapolis, Indiana, were available. I'm sure that Indianapolis is not exactly a big-time tourist destination, but it sounded fine to us, so we took it. We will probably be going to some neighboring states as well, such as Kentucky, but I am hoping Eunice won't make me drive too much, or she might "drive me crazy." LOL We are also taking some fishing equipment, but I am not sure how much fishing we will get in. We are leaving tomorrow, and returning a week later. After that, I hope to resume normal postings on my Box-Free Blog, with the addition of a message board in the near future, although I am scheduled for jury duty the week following our return from Indiana, and fall semester at school begins the week after that.