‘BERRIES IN A BARREL:

The Thornberries Tour Niagara Falls

May 21 to May 24, 2006

This trip was planned approximately four months before it came ultimately to fruition. Despite the best intentions, however, it still came on us most unexpectedly, rearing up amidst a plethora of messy events that we could not have anticipated during its inception. Jennifer and I found ourselves involved in a complex move down the street, as well as a professional conference I wished to attend the same weekend, a social event later that afternoon and a family dinner that evening. [Whew!]

Sunday, May 21, 2006--From Here to There

Jennifer’s family was generous enough to let our bodies lie somnolent under their roof the first evening we traveled, and then drive said bodies to the airport the next morning. We rolled our bodies, still sleeping, out of bed, into our clothes and into Jennifer’s mother’s car.

Oh, dear god! It was May 21. The first official day of spring was (and correct me if I’m wrong), March 20. Is May not after March? Yes? Then I ask, where the hell was the spring!? That Sunday morning dawned crisp and freakin’ cold as mid-November. We shivered our way through frozen May flowers, comparing thee to a summer’s blizzard, until we arrived at the Louisville Airport.

The Usual Plethora of Airport Hassles

As we’ve doubtless stated in previous narratives, Jennifer and I have a very ambivalent relationship with air travel. We hate the airport crowds, the controlled chaos, the regimented way we’re pushed along like a herd of herbivores (sans only the rancher’s stun batons) and the security checks where they take our luggage and rifle through our bras and panties. However, the trade-off is speed and responsibility. We get there a little faster and we don’t have to do much besides sit and do what they tell us.

Generally, we haven’t had any major mishaps with air travel…no lost luggage, no strip searches, no going down in a hellish fireball. But this time, we hit a few snags.

First of all, we had decided to see if it was logistically more feasible to pack exclusively for carry-on luggage. We don’t like the whole baggage claim process, which is cumbersome and comes with that lurking dread that the airport will actually lose our toiletries and leave us stranded hundreds of miles from home with no toothbrushes. So we had our things streamlined down to just the “lean and mean” essentials that we could carry aboard and stow on the plane. Naturally, I worried. I always worry when it comes to details. Jennifer assured me that she had confirmed the dimensions of our bags at the Northwest Airlines Web site and they fit within the space requirements. But I was still harboring doubts, as I thought the bag I was carrying was probably overstuffed beyond the limits. Fortunately, I verified from their little display case that we had stuffability. Of course, as soon as I said that to Jennifer, I couldn’t get that goofy 1950s Doo Wop song, “Personality” out of my head [“’cos you’ve got (personality), walk (with personality), talk (with personality), smile (with personality), charm (with personality), love (with personality)…] Let’s hear it for Lloyd Price. We had…stuffability…. Arrg!

The music theme continued when we got our tickets and found out Jennifer and I would be playing musical chairs. For the first time in the four years we’ve been traveling by plane, we found that the airport had put us into two different sections of the plane. So we raised the proverbial cane to the person running our gate and he said he would see what he could do. Jennifer left me to sentinel our baggage while she visited the powder room, and it was during that time that the guy announced that our plane would be leaving from another gate. Everyone started leaving, until eventually, the only one left in the chairs was little ol’ me. Then the gate director called our name and paged us back up to the desk. I was there by myself and couldn’t haul all of our luggage up there with me, so I left it with an eye on it from behind and went up to speak to the guy…who left the desk and ran away as soon as I got there. Ultimately, it turned out that he’d gotten us seats together on the flight. Jennifer returned to find me carrying all of our luggage on my back like Atlas holding the world, standing at a different gate and trying not to scream.

With relief, we boarded the plane and allowed it to hurl our bodies across the continental United States. Our layover was in Detroit, and then onward to Buffalo. As usual, I noted the neat cloud scenery as we flew over 28,000 feet above the earth’s surface. This time, the clouds looked like undulating cottony bosoms, expanding as far as the leering eye could see. Yes, you have to love air travel.

The Kindly Canuck Cabbie

Jennifer had prearranged for us to get from the airport to our hotel via taxicab. After much research, she had managed to find and schedule one who would ferry us across the Canadian border. We lugged our bags down the escalator, there to meet our cabbie.

An ex-casino worker with bad feet, he was a kindly middle-aged gentleman named “Marty,” who immediately proved himself to be a memorable character. We found Marty where he was supposed to be found, standing next to the baggage claim area with a sign that read “Jennifer Thornberry” on it. Canadian by nationality, he greeted us warmly with an accented lilt that definitely bespoke that of our neighbors to the North. After loading our baggage for us, he chattered throughout the 40-minute trip, filling us in on the attractions of the area. Ultimately, he did seem to favor his own side of the border, letting us know that he considered the American cities in the area to be run-down slums with less entertainment than what was available on his side of the Niagara River. Jennifer and I also noticed that each time we noted something Canadian that was amusing or funny, he felt obligated to defend it. But overall, he was a pleasant guy, one who earned a positive place in this narrative. We took his picture (see above), because his speedometer was in metric units and it looked like we were speeding along at 100 mph!


NEXT TIME: The Travelin' Thornberries comment on the overall Canadian culture, and confront the problems of getting checked into the Oaks Hotel.

Click for Part II