Saturday morning, I headed out of bed at 3:45 a.m. I headed out to the freezing garage to put food out for the cats, Vera and Glenn, despite their confused eyes that demanded: Why are we up so early? By 4:12, after showering, I realized the clock itself might be a good photo for the blog.

At 5:30, I would take a tiny airplane for a short flight to San Francisco. After waiting two hours there, I would be headed to Palm Springs. The first plane was so minuscule and loud I couldn’t even consider sleeping. The man across the aisle, however, must sleep on top of a spinning washing machine. His snoring was even louder than the roar of the engines and the squeaking balloon sounds the plane made upon takeoff and landing.

As I was sitting in the SF airport, I realized I hadn’t flown into Palm Springs airport since I was a senior in high school returning home from the national science fair in Westpoint, NY. And, that is still the last time I landed there — despite my United Airlines ticket.

M was already in the desert and at the airport watching my flight which he could track on an app when our captain announced that we could not land due to poor cloud conditions. Part of M worried that maybe we’d been hijacked or something worse.

Instead, we headed through the pass and to Ontario airport where we could wait for cloud conditions to improve, or a bus. Or — mom and M headed into Ontario to fetch me. Hungry and super tired, I would finally arrive in the desert by 1.

It would’ve been faster to drive.





One Reply to “3:45 a.m.”

  1. I miss that airport and the dessert! I must return soon — let me know the next time you’re going and perhaps I can meet you there or hitch a ride.

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