I seem to have a knack for picking flight itineraries that either turn into mini disasters or at least some kind of irksome adventure – this time demonstrated by my flight to Washington, DC on Thursday evening. My fellow travelers and I bound for our nation’s capital had expected an on-time departure as promised, but at some point when a not very official looking, uniform-less flight mechanic sort came to the microphone and announced that we had no plane, but there was one in a hanger somewhere they could dig out, we raised our eye brows just a wee bit in concern. “There is time”, we thought, and settled back into those comfortable airport seats of ours. As the departure time approached, we did get a wee bit more worried, and this increasing discomfort was not alleviated when another guy (this one was wearing a uniform, even though he could have been anybody and stolen the darn thing) informed us that our plane-to-be had left the hangar about 15 minutes ago and should be at our gate shortly. They were not quite sure where the jet was at the present time, and as far as we knew, the bird either got lost somewhere driving around the Logan runway or had planned to drive down to DC and was currently heading down Interstate 93 in search of the Mass Turnpike.
A little after 7 PM, which was our originally scheduled departure time (or maybe it was much later, I certainly had no idea), the wayward plane did show up, and to be honest, the look of it did not inspire a lot of confidence. It resembled a car that had been driving around Boston for too long with all the scrapes and dents that come along with trying to drive in that car-friendly Commonwealth of ours. Nevertheless we got in, settled down and eagerly anticipated our flight to DC. We started coasting toward the runway, but then stopped fairly soon and at this point the pilot informed us that there was a “systems” issue, nothing to worry about of course, but they better run some checks before we head up 33,000 feet. I can safely say that all the passengers agreed with him at this point, and we went back to our respective books, magazines, newspapers, I-Pods, cell phones, and whatever else we were playing with.
15 Minutes later the captain confidently and with a certain contagious enthusiasm announced that “our little problem” was fixed and we were ready to go. Joy spread across the plane like wild fire – we were off!! Wrrongggggg!!! Half-a-mile down the runway, we stopped again, and while we had hoped that this was simply because we were in the take-off queue, quite the opposite was true. In what can only be described as a deja vu-groundhog-day-ish weirdness that followed, our friend, the captain gave yet another speech, telling us that the “little problem” had re-emerged and that we wound now head back to the gate to get us a new plane, which apparently was waiting for us already at gate B-16. Our expectations that this would actually happen was not a confident one, but miracles of miracles, it was!! I have never been moved from one plane to another that quickly. All systems seemed to be working in the new plane and from that moment on everything moved at warp speed. We finally made it to Bethesda, Maryland, our final destination, a bit after 11 PM, dead tired, only to have to get up again at 6:30 to start attending the conference and listen to scientific presentations (preferably with my eyes open).
Not that the few days before where any more restful or devoid of hectic. Wednesday night, at 9 PM, I not only had to pack but also zip down to Braintree, a city south of Boston to meet up with my tax accountant, who is a tad on the unconventional side, but very affordable and brilliantly fast, and within one hour (no kidding), she was done, the forms were all sent to the IRS electronically and I was spared the nervous breakdown I would have suffered had I attempted to do this myself. I (and my bank account) were very pleased with the outcome of the returns and it looks like the trip to New Zealand in the fall is definitely going to happen.
Thursday before I left, I hosted a pharma company, and was on my feet all day long, shuttling from one end of town to the other, and finally to the airport, and honestly it does not help if the cab driver, who seemed to have acquired his license by finding it in a cereal box, is an expert at jerking the car back and forth every few seconds and the chance of my discharging my lunch in his car (which I am sure he would have not appreciated) increased with every second. Come to think of it, there should be classes for cab drivers, “Anti-Nausea Driving 101”, “How to say Hello”, just to name a couple, which would definitely help to sway my opinion of these insane vehicle operators toward the positive.
Other evenings this week were spent with tax preparations, and a most memorable visit to the gym, where yet again, I got sucked in big time by the mesmerizing selection of TV programming on my exercise bike. God knows I need it (the exercise, not the TV programming), but after 2 hours of watching “Project Runway” I thought the gym staff had to get me off the bike with a pry bar. This is so pathetic.
Speaking of mesmerizing, the conference itself was not quite as dazzling as I had hoped, but it was good and professionally important, so there you go. Of note was the fact, that quite a few presenters used the word “whammy” in their scientific lectures, even on occasion with its favorite prefix “double”. In one of my favorite moments during the conference, one of my fellow attendees, previously located a row ahead of me, with a terrified and repulsed look on her face, suddenly sought refuge on the seat next to me. Apparently the at-first-glance distinguished looking gentleman in front of her emitted some kind of odors, definitely on the unpleasant side, not the slightest bit distinguished, and according to my new friend Meena, he “smelled as if he had been constipated for years” and that “a whole whammy of bamboo shoots would do him a lot of good.” We kept ourselves amused during the entire session by seeing conference participants aiming for the spare seat next to Mister Smelly, sitting down and after a few seconds looking around with that same terrified look on their faces, grab their backpacks and quickly aim for a section with better sensory stimuli and decent air quality.
Another highlight, less on the anecdotal side, was that the wonderfully kind organizers of the conference (with a little friendly nudging of my colleague and friend Michel) invited me to the “President’s Dinner” Friday night, which took place at the most magnificent Georgian mansion, the Strathmore in North Bethesda (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Strathmore_mansion2.jpg). Originally, the turn-of-the century (19th to 20th) historic building started out as a music center and over the course of its history, performances by small chamber ensembles, formal tea parties and gallery exhibits brought this spectacular building to life. Nestled just a little below the mansion, the 190,000 square foot, 1976-seating Music Center was established in 2005, and assumed the role of the premiere concert hall and musical education center in the area. It hosts more than 150 concerts per year and 75 arts and education classes. (http://www.strathmore.org/)
It was a charming evening, with a stroll through the gallery, a most delectable meal and several “speeches from the heart”. My section at the table was quite international, actually mostly European, and featured representation from Greece, Germany and France. The nice Chateau-Neuf du Pape wine must have had quite an impact on the dinner guests, as we saw a few of them scribbling ideas for clinical trials on the back of some of the menu cards. Life seemed good. Of course, many of us have had good ideas at one point or another during a wine-infused evening, only to later discover that whatever we wrote on the dinner napkin made no sense at all.
So - I actually wore this update earlier this afternoon with a bit of time to spare at Ronald Reagan Airport in DC, which is actually quite a nice airport except for the fact that you cannot understand a single announcement on the overhead system. You have to listen very carefully, and should you by mere chance or miracle decipher your destination name in the midst of a whole lot of gibberish you better get to your gate and check. Else you could be sitting there for days.
Tomorrow I will be helping out my friends Ruth and Georges, whose fabulous apartment in Brookline got seriously smoke damaged when a house next door to theirs burned down last weekend. So a whole gang of us are having a packaging and recovery fest with plastic containers, latex gloves and some nice high calorie breakfast foods.
Happy Easter to all of you bunnies!
Pet:)
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