Sometimes there are blue skies in Seattle.

Standing outside the terminal of Seattle-Tacoma Airport, I could feel the cool, moist air on my skin. I was waiting for my ride to take me to my hotel in downtown Seattle, and without seeing anything of the area, I could tell the land was defined by the surrounding water. A big sound, lakes, a mixture of rivers, streams, and canals. I wouldn’t get to explore these waterways – nor would I get to see as much of the Pacific Northwest as I had hoped – but I had a pleasant introduction that’s bound to take me back.

I had the chance to travel to Seattle for a conference at the end of October. The Pacific Northwest has long had a hold of my interest for whatever reason, but I had never visited before. I knew some of the basics – rain, coffee, Space Needle – but didn’t know the history or tourist highlights. I had about two weeks notice so I scanned the guidebooks at the local Borders and settled on the 4th Edition of Fodor’s Seattle guide, which I figured would be thoroughly thumbed through on the six hour flight from Philadelphia. I took the book home, cracked it open, circled my hotel (Grand Hyatt – conferences mean a big upgrade on the accommodations) on a map, and stuck a paperclip as a marker at the top of the page.

The flight from Scranton was late, and I missed my Philadelphia connection. I started a few projects on my laptop and napped on the evening flight. The guidebook was not dog-eared – merely occasionally consulted – each night from my room with the giant neon sign for The Roosevelt Hotel blocking Puget Sound. That’s how deeply I got into the guidebook, and – with this being a business trip – how deeply I got into the city. Since returning, however, I’ve opened up the guidebook to learn more about the city, and I’m sure I’ll return to the city in the same way.

The Native American presence is noticeable in the Pacific Northwest.

My cousin and her two daughters came into the city after the first day of the conference. We drove to Pike Place Market – a Farmers Market open early every morning and closing at 6 p.m. each night as we found. We had about an hour to wander through the stalls, examining fresh fish, fresh flowers, and fresh coffee. This trip was only going to capture basic Seattle tourism so I got a few standard shots. That’s when my cousin’s daughter spotted the totem poles at the edge of the market. We got a 20-minute second grade lesson on the Native American tribes of the Pacific Northwest before leaving for dinner.

Later that night I left the hotel and crossed the street to Von’s. Some of my friends have dreamed of this bar without ever setting foot in the Pacific time zone. I tried to count the number of bottles lined up behind the bar. I skimmed through old clippings and signs hung on the walls. It isn’t a dive, but an interesting slice of downtown city life.

No, I didn't pack any to take home

The next day, we swung by the Space Needle and Lake Washington on the way to my cousin’s house. I went trick-or-treating with their family (yeah, dated post, huh?) for the first time in years and spent the night swapping family stories. My flight was scheduled for early the next morning.

The conference never let me get out to see the city. I ended up parked in the hotel for nearly the entire trip. But the visit was just enough to whet my appetite. (And avoid getting wet – just sprinkles one afternoon. The rain, for that week at least, was overhyped.) I’m checking flight costs to the Northwest again – this time for personal and not professional exploration.

On Thursday morning, they updated the forecast. This would be a decent storm. We’d be driving straight through the storm to get home on Friday night. Or we’d be driving across roads with as much as a foot of ice and snow that may or may not be plowed. I spent my lunch hour looking at weather projections and maps. We talked at 3:30 that afternoon – we’d leave town that night (pack quickly…) and drive south where the weather should be limited to rain.

I’d never had much success trying to outflank a weather pattern before. I’ve failed to outrun snow storms in the past. I’ve driven along the Texas countryside trying to get to a cross road and out of a tornado’s path. Last year, we were forced to land in Toledo and stuck overnight in Detroit while trying to get home after Christmas. But we pack and leave by 7 p.m.

We were most of the way to Harrisburg when we called Roger to ask about the forecast for Pittsburgh. Either we’d turn west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike or stay south and head for Hagerstown, Maryland depending on whether Pittsburgh would have freezing rain that night. The weather looked clear until 1 a.m. and would be just rain by 10 a.m. – easy set-up for crashing in a hotel room. We turned west on I-76 and set our sights on New Stanton – a place Franchise selected.

The road was pretty clear, the weather held, although I was tired and we pulled off one exit early – about 20 miles shy of our intended destination. I noticed the name of the county on the way in. A long time ago, a branch of my mom’s family lived in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania. Most of the family moved out after about 20 years. Only a few brothers stayed behind. I didn’t have any graves to search for and doubted there would be much paper record because the family left about 200 years ago.

We found the hotel and crashed for the night. Neither of us had heard of our jobs being closed the next day so we’d have to wake early to learn about the cancellations through text message or call off for the day. Franchise’s phone alarm sounded at 6:15 a.m. Within a few minutes, she received her cancellation text and rolled back over. I wasn’t cancelled so I spent a few minutes surfing the web on my Blackberry – learning a bit about the county’s history. That’s when I heard the buzzing – a quiet alarm sounding from the hallway. I rolled over to look at the alarm clock – dark. I flipped the bed lamp switch – nothing.Franchise slept blissfully in the bed – completely unaware. But I sat there thinking about my situation.I had never expected to find myself in Westmoreland County with no powern while rain poured outside while I tried to outsmart the seasonal weather.

Power was still out when Franchise woke so we considered our options. Donuts in the lobby and a dark bathroom. I grabbed my phone and Franchise’s GPS to Google and map the county historical society. Then I proposed an option to Franchise. We drive 20 miles to the historical society. Enjoy light, power, running water. I’d search their records for 30 minutes to see if they have anything pertaining to my family – anything that might encourage or dissuade me from visiting again. Then we’d get back on the road. Sometimes, when an opportunity is presented, you can’t let it go – particularly if it’s something you really enjoy doing.

Franchise didn’t sign up to leave Thursday night. She didn’t want to scamper out of Scranton wondering whether she would need to call in a sub for the next day. She didn’t want to be in a powerless hotel in Southwestern Pennsylvania. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the day in the archives somewhere while I did research. I could see the thoughts form in her head: Can’t he go anywhere without having to do genealogy research? She was gracious though. If there’s power, OK, she said. We checked the front desk. The hotel expected to be without power for the next 20 hours. The county seat had power. We packed the car and left.

Sure, I remembered the family name that resided in the area for 20-25 years. Bennetts. William, the patriarch, fought in the Battle of Bunker Hill and Yorktown. Isaac, his youngest son, is my direct ancestor. No clue on the dates or years they lived there or who was born, died, and married where. Totally unprepared and not expecting to parachute in to do anything with this family – particularly in a county where they resided for only a portion of their movement through the fledgling United States.

I walked into the Westmoreland County Historical Society with my laptop – full of all the family history scans I’ve collected – my brains for the day because I haven’t looked at this family in at least a year. The staff was nice – really helpful in digging up books and talking about the history of the area. I found a copy of a land deed from April 6, 1795 and a couple of mentions of the families that remained behind. Franchise read To Kill a Mockingbird. We stuck around about 90 minutes before hitting up the hotdog eatery on the corner and heading to Ohio.

The trip’s started with a lot of potential for a great story. Franchise and I have already decided that the Christmases since the wedding have been particularly adventuresome. We’re not done yet, but we made the best of a surprise situation.

I enjoy watching big-time college football. I was in the Ohio State Marching Band in college, and we visited most of the Big Ten stadiums in my five years. We also saw the Superdome and Raymond James Stadium during bowl games, and I got a visit to the Rose Bowl before my final year of college. It’s been a few years since I spent fall Saturdays in football stadiums, but I miss that setting and was excited by the opportunity – and, yes, I know there’s no mistaking current Syracuse football with anything in the Top 25.

It was supposed to rain the whole day. My wife warned me not to get sick. Roger asked about the bad weather. Not to worry, I said, Syracuse play in a dome (that is surely more raucous for basketball games).

It poured the entire way there. Didn’t help that we left an hour after we planned. Avoided active construction zones, but the single lanes slowed us down. And I topped out at 48 while squinting through my windshield on I-81. Only saw one accident on the way up, parked (Syracuse has the goofiest way of getting you to their visitors’ parking lot), and took a university shuttle down to the Carrier Dome. One guy was amped up for the game, and he tried to get the full bus revved up. Nobody was interested. There was more response from the lady at the gate who took our tickets. “Those are nice seats,” she said.

The dome was half empty. I’ve never really been at a half-empty stadium for a college game before. My alma mater’s traveling fans would take any unused seats from whoever was the home team normally. Heck, it was easier to get a ticket to an away game than a home game for some people I knew. The folks around us said that the fans openly mocked the announcement that there were 35,000 people there the week before. Announcer listed 27,000 at our game.

We walked in about 4 minutes into the game just as an Orangeman was running into the end zone. Fans were ecstatic. Game continued that way. Syracuse continued to do well. I was underwhelmed by the band, and the food was adequate. The game and stadium developed an odd feel. It was reserved similar to a baseball game but with the action of football. Fans weren’t into big plays. Some of the times they were most passionate was when they wanted a penalty called (and there was obviously no penalty on the play). A couple years of mediocre football can dampen everyone’s edges – the fans, the band, the team. Everything became lackluster and missed the passion found on other college campuses.

Pittsburgh, the visitors, finally pulled even and took the lead as the game wound into the fourth quarter. As Syracuse turned the ball over and the game got out of reach, fans finally became vocal – in criticizing the coaches and players. (They’re college kids folks…) When they weren’t groaning and yelling at the coaching, they discussed options for a new coach next year. This guy has a tie to the team, this guy once lived in the area, that guy knows the university’s administration…

Everyone filed out grumbling about the game that got away. It was then that I heard somebody say something – one of the memorable items about the trip. A guy walking into the bathroom was trying to bolster the spirits of a stranger. “Faith, it’s called sticking with your team,” he said.

Hmm, no, that’s loyalty. I saw loyalty but not faith – the fans seemed surprised their team was leading for so much of the game. And when fans lack faith, their excitement and enthusiasm isn’t there. Without that, it really isn’t college football.

It’s always nice to get a few days at home to relax. This time was an experience. It had been years since I had been home for a birthday or visited the town’s summer carnival. We visited the Columbus Zoo for the birthday. The festival was packed with people, but I hadn’t realized it was so – compact. As a kid, it seemed a lot bigger than two blocks.

Work begins again tomorrow (Tuesday). Freshman begin move-in on Thursday. Classes start next week. I can’t believe summer’s coming to a close.

At least I got one good trip out of it.

View map of baseball stadiums visited.

Roger and I visited New York City yesterday to see the Yankees host the Red Sox in Yankees Stadium. It was the 14th Major League Baseball stadium I’ve visited. I’ll add some pictures shortly.

New York was fun. We ate at Druid’s at 50th and 10th. Neat pub. Very Irish – err Celtic. Enjoy the Irish Soda Bread. Roger recommends the curry. I’m still getting used to smoked salmon. Then we ventured to East 42nd. We saw the United Nations building just as it closed for the day. (The flags were all down already – no good picture.) Afterward, we walked up and down the side streets trying to recognize the flags that flew in front of consulates and permanent missions. (We did OK. Social Studies teachers taught us well.) Finally took the train up to Yankees Stadium walked around a bit and ventured inside.

There was a heckuva wait after the game. It took an hour or two for most of the 55,000-plus fans to clear the area, and we were happy to wait and avoid the crush on a muggy night. But by the time we got back to the parking garage in Hells Kitchen, the 24-hour parking garage had closed for the night. Attendant woke up, gave us the car, and we were on our way back to Scranton – arriving at 5:15 a.m. Work, and the morning alarm, came early this morning.

Oh, the game. Yankees-Red Sox was impressive. It’s not quite Ohio State-Michigan. The fans were happy to sit down most of the time. Friends who backed the rivals teased each other, but there wasn’t the vulgar hostility until late in the game when a couple Sox fans decided they had received their money’s worth and could afford to be thrown out. But the fans were loud and passionate – and it was odd to see a standing crowd cheering for a big pitch in the second inning. Alex Rodriguez hit his 536th home run – tying Mickey Mantle for 13th on the all-time list. Red Sox had the lead late before the Yankees rallied to force extra innings. Brett Gardner, who was called up from AAA Scranton/Wilkes-Barre about a week before, had the game-winning two-out up-the-middle single in the bottom of the 10th. Home team wins 5-4.

Jessica and Brian are stuck in Michigan. After our plane arrived in the Detroit airport, Jessica bargained for flights (through Philadelphia) to Scranton on December 27 and a night in a Best Western in Detroit. The shuttle passes us by twice, and Jessica, Brian, and several new friends decide to hail a taxi.

At the hotel, we learn the hotel is full. The only remaining rooms all have problems. The manager decides to bus us across the street for the night. Jessica and Brian check in (at 1:55 a.m.) and go straight to the bar to beat last call. Two drinks later, they grab their bags, coats, and phones and head toward their room.

Jessica and Brian get to the lobby restaurant, but are greeted by a hotel employee offering them a ride to the airport. Jessica (remembering the problems leaving the airport the night before) jumps at the chance. Ten minutes later, we’re being screened at DTW nearly three hours before flight 1776 is scheduled to depart for Philadelphia. (He updates the blog using his phone to pass the time.)

Standing at the line for Starbucks, Jessica examines her boarding pass. She’s in seat 4A – first class! Brian’s shocked, then learns he is in 1A. More than two hours later, he boards the plane, hands over his coat, and graciously accepts a small juice while other passengers trudge past him. Jessica scrambles to the front of the boarding line. The airline employee gives her a nasty look, and Jessica responds with “you just let my husband in.” Jessica boards, takes her juice, and immediately falls asleep as the remainder of the passengers stare enviously at her.

During the flight, Brian learns the dirty little airline secret. Nobody seated in first class paid for the special treatment. Everyone was bumped up as a payoff for delays, cancellations, etc. Whatever. Jessica and Brian weren’t upgraded on their honeymoon. They deserve it this year. They’ll gladly take it as a belated Christmas present.

The rest of the trip is as uneventful and expected as you’d expect by this point. We switch airlines, get new boarding passes, must pass security (again) in Philadelphia. We arrive in Scranton, but there’s no luggage. The next morning, Brian’s suitcase shows up – but there’s no suitcase for Jessica. She and Brian finally pick it up from the baggage guy in a CVS parking lot on their way to her parents to celebrate faux Christmas on the 28th.

“We’ll drive,” Jessica tells her family, “the next time we go somewhere.”

So when Jessica and Brian left Port Columbus (and Ohio) for the Detroit airport (and Michigan), how did they end up in Toledo?

“Sorry folks the weather suddenly got bad” as we were circling Detroit over and over and over again, the pilot announced when he told Jessica, Brian, and the other passengers of their new destination. “We’ll talk to you again upon landing.”

He sure did talk to us again when he landed. The pilot also got his boss, and his boss’s boss on the radio. Turns out, the pilot had just finished a 16-hour day, and he really wanted to get to his hotel room in the Detroit metropolitan area. Our airline did not normally run flights through the Toledo airport so we didn’t even get to pull up to a gate. The pilot was not in a mood to sit on the tarmac in Toledo. (Neither were his passengers.) Before we had much of a chance to complain, however, the pilot had radioed half of the Northwest supervisors asking for the chance to take off again.

The pilot eventually summed everything up for us. Company policy (if not federal regulations) mandate that planes must have 2400 feet visibility to land. Detroit had suddenly been covered with fog, and we had only 1100 feet visibility. We made two landing attempts at Detroit before we were redirected to Toledo. The National Weather Service expected five hours of the dense fog, but after about 30 minutes in Toledo the fog had appeared to lift enough for flights to get in and out of Detroit.

“Let’s just see how lucky we can get,” the pilot said.

It took another hour for the airline to arrange to get us additional fuel and to get all the proper clearances to leave.

So, after a 90-minute wait sitting on the plane, Jessica and Brian’s flight returned to the air and landed in Detroit at 11:05 p.m.

The pilot’s response?

“We barely made it,” he told the flight attendant.

Might want to keep those thoughts behind the sealed cockpit door next time. Now, to see about a new flight (the Dec. 26 flight to Scranton was cancelled). We also have to find a bed in a state that we’d rather not be in right now.

The flight schedule showed a delay, with the flight now scheduled to leave at 7:59 p.m. Jessica and Brian sought out Brian’s parents for one more meal and a few more memories of the trip. Finally, at about 7:30 they said their goodbyes and went through the security checkpoint.

They made the announcement at 7:45 p.m. The flight to Detroit/DTW would leave at 8:54 p.m. Jessica hurried to get to the front of the line, and she was able to get us bumped to another DTW-bound flight. (The departure of that flight was originally scheduled for 5 p.m.) The plane pulled away from the gate at 8:25. We landed in Toledo 70 minutes later.

About 20 minutes before boarding, they finally announced that they didn’t think we’d be flying from that gate. The plane arrived and its passengers disembarked looking frazzled and stressed. After a respectful delay, they announced that there were mechanical problems with that plane. They’d look for a new plane – and new gate – for the flight to CMH.

We were sent to gate A9 where we were told that Northwest had found a new plane for us. They even offered that the plane was in the air from Memphis. Brian called home quickly (his parents were picking us up for the two hour drive to St. Marys) and learned that his parents were arriving at CMH at that minute.

Jessica and Brian’s plane finally arrived, and (with several other slight delays) we were finally airborn to Ohio. We were supposed to arrive at 10:48. We arrived a little after midnight. (Not bad, considering.)

By the time we had the luggage, left the parking garage line, and nearly sideswiped two deer near Wapakoneta, we arrived home at 3 a.m. It’s normally about a 9 hour drive from Scranton to St.M. Driving – we would have arrived around midnight.

This entry written on Brian’s cell phone in the Detroit airport on the return trip. More on that in parts 3 and 4 (and 5!)

Jessica and Brian are spending Christmas with Brian’s parents in St. Marys. (It’s Jessica’s first Christmas-day visit with the Clarks, and Brian’s first December 25 in Ohio since 2003.) The trip to get to the Buckeye State was full of set-backs (delays) but no lost luggage.

Several months ago, Jess and Brian decided to fly to avoid any nasty winter weather on Interstate 80. They arrived at AVP (Wilkes-Barre-Scranton “International” Airport) for their 4:10 flight. They found a check-in desk that was booking people on taxis to the airport in Binghamton, New York (70 minutes away) so they could make their connections in Detroit. The airline was so happy to learn we had a long layover in Detroit because it meant we’d make both flights. We checked our luggage and headed to the airport’s bar and arcade to kill the next three hours.

While sipping drinks and swapping travel stories, we heard the airport’s announcements to other holiday travelers:

• The U.S. Air flight from Philadelphia was in the air, then back in Philadelphia, then in the air, then at the gate. But the return flight was cancelled. Anyone with tickets to fly from Scranton to Philadelphia got to ride the bus (courtesy of the airline) at 5 p.m.
• The United flight from Scranton to Chicago was delayed because of fog. Then the story changed. The airplane was stuck in Akron, waiting to take off to fly to Chicago. From Chicago, the plane would fly to Scranton, where Pennsylvania passengers could board for their flight to Chicago.

We considered ourselves lucky when we went wheels up at 7 p.m.

Watch for Part II: Stuck in Michigan