Flying with No Shoes

Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band

I am not a particularly good flyer. I'm not an engineer or blind believer so when I see planes in the sky I expect them to fall. Yes I have been known to duck when hearing one overhead.

You throw a rock into the air and it falls. An airplane is heavier than a rock (a bit)! Even a aerodynamically designed airplane comes crashing down eventually. I get that it isn't exactly the same thing, but that is the basic premise of my fear. 

Beyond that is the human factor. We are not perfect and prone to errors in judgement and execution. Consider for a moment the recent scare with faulty ignition switches in a popular American manufactured vehicle. If that can happen in cars, it can happen in airplanes. Add to that human error, weather phenomenon and these days terror attacks and it is surprising that more planes aren't falling from the skies. 

If I have to soar among the clouds I would rather have the freedom to spread my wings and soar like an eagle. Protected from predators on the ground wanting to shoot me down. That's not going to happen, and yet, I still fly. Not particularly often and out of necessity rather than pleasure. For pleasure, I would much rather travel under my own power and control or by rail. I would throw by sea into that mix but that mode is still a dream to me now.

It's Christmas and road travel can be precarious with unpredictable weather and so I booked a flight to go see my kiddies almost 2,000 km away. I think I did well, non-stop flight (landings and take offs are the most dangerous) at a decent price. Spirits were soaring as I wrapped the gifts that had been selected with care and love. Local goods not available in the mass market, I proudly supported my local merchants. The bag was packed  2 days before departure leaving just personal items to be packed. 

When to my horror did arrive a confirmation email from the airline stating the dimensions of allowable carry on baggage. Old news, I knew there were size restrictions and the bag I had packed was bigger and I knew would have to be checked. Recent terrorist activities have brought about significant changes in the way we travel. Sad but I get the safety issues that have arisen. And I knew that accordingly my suitcase must be checked. Liquids and wrapped packages are not allowed on-board the plane.

But the email wasn't very clear about the procedures for checked bags. All that was clear was the cost for oversized, overweight and extra baggage. Panicked, I called the airline. What about my single bag that was not oversized or overweight but larger than carry on? 

All checked bags subject to $25.00 plus tax charge. Say what? 



According to the representative this new charge was put in place earlier in the year when other major carriers did the same so that they could remain competitive. I am far from a marketing specialist but does this make sense to anyone? Not satisfied with that logic I pressed on and was told the extra charge was needed to keep up the comforts and conveniences of the lounge area in the airport. Pardon my inexperience in this area but if plans were not delayed for mechanical, personnel or weather issues, why is a lounge area even necessary? Yeah, yeah connecting flights. Sorry, not buying the logic there. 

If 5 people out of 30 passengers pay the extra fee for baggage you still have to have the business expense of hiring staff to deal with those bags. You need the same equipment regardless of the numbers. Call it what it is....a money grab.

So, the airlines have removed any excess room to accommodate a growing (in size) population, and forced the passengers to stow their own bags. Flights have been delayed and turned around due to on board turf wars. Somewhat understandably, as reclining  seats easily infringe upon anothers personal space. There simply doesn't seem to be enough room in the cabin for all the carry-on people must bring with them. Add to that the fact that seats are so compressed that no one beyond a pre-pubescent teen less than 5'2" tall can fit comfortably. But society in general is increasing, not only girth but in stature. There is no wonder that products such as the Knee Defender have become popular for travellers. That particular gizmo prevents the passenger in the seat in front of you from reclining their seat. Quite frankly the time is past for the option of reclining seats. These days I think the concept of personal space is lost on the airline executives who fly first class in comfort, unaware of the gymnastics going on for average flyer. For hours, hips and knees are connected with complete strangers. Contortions are performed to turn the page of a book or have a sip of a beverage without elbowing your seat mate in the face or inadvertently coping a feel of breasts resting dangerously close to the invisible dividing line of the shared arm rest. Oh I love flying! lol

And don't get me started on the washrooms which have been downsized to the point where only double jointed 5 year olds could possibly fit in there to join the Mile High Club. The average adult meanwhile must perform complex gymnastics manoeuvres to turn around and wash their hands in the sink.

And for this privilege we pay ever increasing costs, receive fewer and fewer benefits for our money and suffer more and more inconveniences. Add at least an hour before a national flight to arrive at the airport, don't bring any food or beverages with you to compensate for the lack of amenities on the plane (but you can always purchase goods from the secured side for double or triple the cost). And learn to juggle that coffee and sandwich with your two carry bags, while you grip your boarding pass and official government ID in your teeth. Damn, is that the phone ringing? It better not be an alert from the airline that the gate or departure time has changed. Leave your toothpaste and shampoo at home unless you have paid a premium for the travel-size versions. Costco value-sized sunscreen be damn, you can pay for the concoction not approved by your higher government standards once you arrive at your destination.

I can abide by all these restrictions and cutbacks although with a snarl on my face and a curse on my lips. But what I can't forgive is travelling any where in any weather for any longer than 5 days with one carry-on bag (22x16x9in). Casual clothes, dress clothes, (one outfit each) toiletries, personal items and a few electronics or luxury items (deodorant) and your bag is full. You must decide before you travel how important comfort is to you. You can bring the warm jacket or the rain gear - would you rather be warm or dry? Comfort or style - can you handle a night on the town wearing your best formal wear with runners?

I Wish I could fit 3 pairs!

These are the questions I grappled with before this trip. The gifts were already purchased and wrapped do I leave them behind or unwrap them? In the end, I opted for a compromise. I would bring as many gifts as I could fit with a minimal amount of personal attire and check said bag. For the return trip I would save the cost and carry the bag with me as liquids and surprises would no longer be an issue. But that necessitated a complete re-think on the wardrobe choices. No room for the everyday purse or the warm footwear. The smaller handbag and comfort shoes took precedence. Now I ask you who can enjoy travel under those harsh conditions? One pair of shoes? Really? 

It would seem that I am not alone in being forced to pay the surcharge. At the baggage carousel there stood about 40 people waiting for checked bags. Not Including overweight and additional charges that Is about $1,000 in extra pocket change for the airline - on one flight, one way!

The bulky sweater was left behind, the hat and warm scarf didn't fit. So for Christmas in the centre of the Universe where the exhaust fumes should be enough to warm up the ambient air I will freeze. But please, don't think this is a call for the creature comforts for life in the north. I have plenty of warm gear back home in my other suitcase that I couldn't bring with me.

Wait until you see the size of the purse I buy for the next time I fly. My carry-on will dwarf it. This year on Boxing Day, I will be shopping at the luggage store! 

My Chrismas Miracle

2000 Miles - The Pretenders

It started off two days before Christmas. For me it might as well have been Christmas Eve for the next day I was scheduled to board a plane that would take me back to where I left the only family I know. My children. Despite the cost, they were determined that I would make the trip back to city that thinks it is the centre of the universe. Toronto isn't even the centre of Canada. Among the provinces, Thunder Bay, Ontario takes that geographical honour. :p


Once I landed in Toronto, I might be spending some time people watching and wandering the vast expanse of Pearson International Airport waiting for someone to be able to pick me up. Some would still be sleeping others working. It was all good. I would have things at the ready to pass the time. Last minute Christmas shopping at the airport is not one of the choices of activities. So everything had to be done before I left. Going to the drug store was one of those chores. 

I talked with the pharmacist when I re-filled my prescription and explained the bizarre symptoms that I believe are a side effect of the medicine. I don't react to medication in the "normal" way. Pain in the middle of both feet so intense I could barely walk and a burning sensation in one finger is how I reacted to a form of antibiotics. The pharmacist and I laughed as he had pulled out his bible of drug reactions and knew he would find nothing like that listed. 

So, when it started feeling like something was crawling in my ears followed by a pressure build up that lasted 30-45 seconds before subsiding I blamed the medicine I had recently started taking. I had the same reaction on a previous medication and no one believed that it could be so. When I gave him the history, this pharmacist bucked the Ontario doctors beliefs and said, switch meds, it won't go away on its' own. Then he shelved his own reference bible. 

It wasn't a good time for me the last time that I was taking this family of medication and with the symptoms ignored I flew and by the time I finally landed back home, I was suffering terrible ear pain. I finally ended up insisting on seeing an ear, nose and throat specialist who fixed me right up. He said there was no need to suffer and if it happened again I could call him direct and he would take care of the problem immediately. My problem is I don't remember what he did or exactly what my major symptoms had escalated to. I do however remember his kindness and understanding! Believing when none of the other many professionals I was seeing didn't. 

Christmas All The Time - Tom Cochrane

And so it was that I found myself in the pharmaceutical aisle a little closer to home, I was trying to navigate the vast array of winter malady remedies. Cough and cold, just runny nose, sinus pain, congestion, dry hacking cough, fever, no fever. Argh? I had none of it. I was looking for something that would relieve pressure in my ears that might intensify with the flying experience. I felt I was in a trance picking up one box after another, turning it over in my hand hoping that the answer would jump out at me. I instinctively stepped back when I felt the presence of another shopper nearing.

It wasn't until she was within arms reach that I noticed her flowing floor length coat was brushing against my ankles and I continued my gaze up until I reached her face. It didn't take long for she barely reached my shoulder, if you gave her hat perched on her fluffy white curls credit for her stature. She was looking right at me through her wire-rimmed glasses, eyes sparkling and rose red lips spread into a smile as wide as her rounded cheeks. I smiled back and it felt good. Like a relief. The Christmas spirit was alive and well. Kindness for our fellow citizens. 

But then she did something I didn't expect. She reached out and put her hand gently under my bent elbow as a gesture of support. I felt safe at the same time as I wondered if she thought I was maybe someone else. I didn't speak, I didn't want this moment of comfort to end. Then as I gazed down at her she spoke. "Don't worry so," she said, "it'll give you wrinkles and you deserve laugh lines." I let out a sigh and a chuckle, I felt my cheeks go taut with a smile. It felt so good. 

Without releasing my gaze her free hand extended blindly to the shelf on our left. And then she was pressing a box into my hand and she said, "This will help you it is what you need." 

Finding my voice, I quietly thanked her, as I grasped the unseen box even tighter. 

As I sensed a gentleman shopper was nearing, I prepared to leave. But she held me in place with her gentle hand at my elbow. "How about a Christmas hug?" she said. I bent down to reach her in a cheek to cheek embrace and it felt so natural to be hugging a complete stranger in the middle of the cold remedy aisle of the local drug store. It was only a moment but I had barely risen to my full height when she said in a somewhat mischievous little voice "How about another?" How could I say no? 

But to my surprise the elderly male shopper had come to stand beside her with an arm draped over her shoulder. Her husband she explained. Why not I thought. So in the spirit of Christmas I walked into those outstretched arms of the man, his smile hidden under the pristine snow white beard and overgrown moustache. But his eyes twinkled and shone like the North Star perched on the round hillocks of his cheeks. His arms wrapped around me like a comfortable blanket making me feel safe. His strong roman nose grazed my forehead and I felt his warm breath fluttering my eyelashes. It felt familiar.

As we parted he very gently kissed my cheek and whispered into my ear, "You are worth it. Follow your heart and go where it leads you."

Arm in arm, they walked away and disappeared around a corner. I felt lighter somehow, as if they had taken some of my weighty burdens with them. Hope replaced doubt and fear. 

And so it was that in this moment of bliss, I finally looked down at the box that I had been clutching so tightly that it was beginning to get deformed in my sweaty palm. It wasn't a box of commercially prepared concoctions. My name was on it and it was wrapped with festive paper. On the back was written these lines:

This box is filled with love

From people who have gone.

When you feel sad or lonely remember

That tomorrow will come the dawn.

And the light will shine

Open you arms and heart and

the love will be eternally possessed.

Should you need a hug or two 

hold the box close to your breast 

You can carry on just fine.

My eyes were closed tight trying to commit this moment of peace and love to memory forever. 

The next day on the plane, I made sure that the little box stayed with me and it brought me comfort and much joy. Memories flooded back. Just the good ones. Just the ones that brought pleasure. The hugs and the smiles, the kind words and the helping hands. 

I closed my eyes and envisioned the times that were and the times were yet to be. And I smiled as the emotions spilled from my eyes and my heart. Filled to capacity and overflowing with love and happiness. The silver bird swiftly took me to the place where I left memories. If only for a short time to relive the joy...


Partially reality, partially fantasy, partially a dream. All original :)

Keep the Faith - Happy Easter!

Heaven Coming Down - The Tea Party

Happy Easter to everyone. I'm going to take the road less traveled and see where it takes me. 


I was born and raised a Roman Catholic, an Italian Roman Catholic. I never doubted the concept of heaven and a higher power that put us hear on earth. I called that higher power God. Heaven was the place that my father called home. It was comforting to know that he hadn't really left, he just moved and as I have mentioned in other blogs, I believed he came back and allowed me to feel his presence at times also. I had the faith from within and I didn't need to have it shoved down my throat at a weekly ritual called the mass. Church with Mom was an enjoyable venture rather than a necessary chore. If Mom heard about a church that was holding a special mass - like a special guest speaker or music, we went there. I remember the guitar mass at St. Patrick Cathedral in Thunder Bay it was the best service I had ever attended and I don't even remember specifics, just the spiritual uplifting I felt. 


One thing you have to know about my Mom was that she was notoriously late. She tried every memory trick going, but somehow she always forgot or lost track of time. Can't blame her, the woman had way too much on her plate to deal with! Regardless, it was this tardiness that ensured that we never had a set time or parish to go to for weekly mass. We would start off planning for Saturday night service, because no one wanted to get up early on Sunday morning and rush to get ready. Probably the though of getting 4 kids ready one more day during the week, prompted that mentality. Either way, if we missed Saturday evening and Sunday morning we would try for Sunday evening. Good thing there were a lot of options because somehow it always seemed that something would come up and we would miss all the services for another week. Maybe it was just the tardiness, but to me I felt that my mom paid less importance on the church as a building than a religious life. Spending time with unexpected company that dropped in was more important, even a really good Walt Disney special on TV sometimes took precedence. But, if we hadn't gone for awhile, we were expected to make sure to attend. Even if Mom didn't join us. Sometimes, despite all good intentions, we were just late again and Mom thought it was more respectable to have four children walk in late alone than the embarrassment she would have felt joining us. How late were we? Well, more than once we walked in as the congregation was walking up the aisle for communion! For anyone in the know of the Catholic Service, that is about 3/4 of the way through the service. In fact many people keep walking right after communion, right out the door and to their cars. Despite our lax attendance at the church on a weekly basis, our faith was very important to us as a family. We were expected to live a good Christian life - Mom's often repeated motto was "If you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything". Which is why some of the people who have crossed my path have not heard my true feelings about what I think of them. 


Over the years, my faith has taken some hits, but my belief in the concepts have not. After my Mom and sisters were killed, my conviction to the notion of heaven and angels grew. I had to believe that they hadn't left me alone but had just gone on to another place to watch over me. They could still be with me - albeit in another form. My faith allowed me to accept my fate. But it also made me question the logic behind the church as an institution. 


As that faith was cemented in my young mind, my trust and belief in the concept of the church was being razed. Sunday services with my grandparents took on a whole new meaning. Now my brother and were expected to get up at the crack of dawn on the coldest winter mornings to prepare and ensure we were not only not late for church but early enough so that no one else would take our seats. This was a whole new ritual to the Catholic experience that I had been unaware of. When my brother finally got the courage to ask why just once we couldn't sleep in and go to a later mass, the truth came out. That had to be at "that" mass because what would the congregation and priest say if they weren't there. Everyone looked for them to be in their customary pew, and if they weren't there, something was surely wrong. That would have the priest making an unexpected call to the house to make inquiries and the whole congregation would have their tongues wagging. To my grandmother, this was completely unacceptable. Social house calls from the priest were only permissible when everything was okay and there was no need for his presence. He came now and then to bless the house and drop off some holy water. Sometimes I would be hiding around the corner of the hall, wishing he would perform an exorcism to remove the evil I felt permeated the house when Mom left and others moved in. 


I will never forget when the priest made the mistake of bringing up the topic of the tithe with my grandfather. As a member of the congregation, envelopes with the parishioners name on it was provided for the purpose of the weekly tithe. By nature of the title, the church expected 10% of the household earnings to be given to the church. And of course, the envelopes ensured that the church knew exactly who was giving and how much. The church would claim that they kept records so that at the end of the year they could issue tax receipts for charitable contributions, but that day the priest used the information to let my grandfather know that while he knew that his salary had gone up over the years, the amount of money in the "busta" (envelope in Italian) had remained unchanged. The priest suggested that my grandfather consider increasing his $5 contribution. The priest should have returned for a repeat blessing after all the expletives that spewed from my grandfathers mouth at the audacity he felt the priest displayed in even making such a request. At the time, my grandfather had surpassed the age of retirement in order to have an income to support my brother and I. I don't know the details of the financial health of the household but I do know that it was my grandfathers opinion that he gave his $5 every week for years and years without fail and had no intention of increasing it. On the other extreme, I once worked with a young married father who took his weekly tithe off the top of his pay cheque without fail, sometimes not leaving enough for groceries after the bills were paid. The church had such a hold on him that he would see his own family go hungry before he went against the demands of the church. Pity really.


Praying and spiritual fulfillment doesn't need to come from a building. Is it really praying when like obedient livestock you are told when to stand, sit, kneel, recite? You are told what to say and when to say it? In fact it has always struck me as ironic that when the priest tells people to pray, everyone lowers their head. I was a young teen when I thought to myself - if God is UP in heaven and the devil is below why do I look down to the devil to pray to God? With arms raised, and eyes looking above, I should be praying to God by looking up to him. Looking at someone when I speak to them is a sign of respect that I learned from my mother. Ironically, when a person feels bullied and belittled they do not have a courage to look into the eye of the person addressing them, they look at the floor. Think of the child who has just been chastised by his parents for a misdeed or how the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board treats its employees. Eyes downcast as though not worthy. I have never understood that logic and I have heard all about reverence before.


It is said that the true Catholics place more religious importance on the Easter celebration than even Christmas because of the events in biblical history leading up to the celebration. But of course, consumerism has turned it into a feast of chocolate indulgence and bunnies hopping everywhere. But it is the time when even non-practicing Catholics find themselves squished into the pews of the church. Weddings, funerals, Christmas and Easter - the church parking lot is busier than the beer store before New Years Eve. Non-christians who balk at the mention of religion in the courthouses, schools and government offices would never object to the Easter (or Christmas) celebrations as long as they are ensured a day off to make a long weekend without work - or extra pay for working on that day. Ah the power of religion rears its ugly head again. What can I get out of it? they ask.


I too, have taken full advantage of the days off work to celebrate the coming of spring and the prospect of new life in the form of the blooming flowers and budding trees. But you won't find me sitting in the pews. Any praying I do, is done to my God and family alone. Not once a week on Sunday like I am told, but every day of my life when and where the notion strikes me. You can talk to any God that you want to or none at all. You can go to a building or get down on your knees at the side of your bed. You too are a child of God in my eyes and unless you hurt others by taking advantage you are welcome. But for the last time, get it right - it is Christmas and Easter celebrated by Christians all over the world. If you don't like it, you are free to protest by refusing the day off and the time and half extra pay for working on that day. 
Until then...Happy Easter and may God bless you! Especially if you sneeze