Life is returning to normal. Yay! Although, I’m not quite sure what normal is any more.
My pneumonia is no more. It took two peanut butter shots, enough fluids to sink a battleship, umpteen days of nothing but rest, and a small—OK, a big—miracle. But when I went in Sunday morning (we got a call at 9 AM asking why the blazes I hadn’t come in for my daily recheck yet), I was pronounced pneumonia free! I was now just really sick! Yay! Life is looking up!
So on to other things. Alakanuk is trying its hardest to blow away. No kidding. We’ve been having crazy winds here for two days now — about 50 miles per hour, with gusts up to 70. This might not be a big deal in most cities or towns or desolate places, but here, where buildings are up on stilts, it is. A big deal. It makes houses shake. By the time this is over, we may end up in Oz.
And why are buildings on stilts? Because the Yukon River floods every year. When an Arctic Circle of snow melts around the same time the rain hits, the results can be quite impressive. It even washes all the garbage into the ocean. The garbage dump is cleared out of a lot of stuff, and so is the town. Most people here look at that as being a good thing. Seriously. I’m sure the fishes really appreciate it. But what these people don’t think of is that all the villages up river are “cleaned out” the same way. Yup. It stinks being at the bottom of the trash (and crap) flow. That is why we boil and filter water here.
So—we have now officially entered rabies season. You’ve heard of cold and flu season? Apparently, there is rabies season too. Strange that it coincides with lack of sun. I wonder if it could have anything to do with deficient vitamin D? Anyway—turns out that a crazed fox raced out of the trees and attacked a landing bush plane. Tried to chew the tires right off of the thing. Of course, it had about as much success as a Chihuahua attacking a speeding Buick. But the pilot had enough sense to stay in the plane. No cargo is worth risking rabies for. Now the fox hunt is on. So far, no luck. Either the poor thing has died, moved to warmer climates, or got blown away to Oz.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Pneumonia Strikes
So I have come up with the #1 rule of living in the Bush: DON’T GET SICK! Simple as that.
Turns out I have pneumonia. Joy. So far, I haven’t found the humor in it—-but I’m still looking.
They gave me a peanut butter shot—-some A-bomb of antibiotics. It hurt like crazy. In fact, before he gave me the shot, he asked me if I have ever fainted. He said the shot is so painful it sometimes makes people faint. Now there’s a comment to instill confidence. The aide is a really nice guy—-name of Paul.
Paul phoned the doctor on call (in Bethel), and they wanted to fly me out to the hospital tonight, but there were no more flights tonight. So they gave me the peanut butter shot, put me on antibiotics, and let me go home until morning with strict instructions to drink lots of fluids. If I haven’t improved drastically, they will fly me out in the morning. I am hoping for a miraculous recovery so that I don’t have to leave Taco. (But just in case, we’ve made arrangements for him to stay with another couple until we get back. I would go by myself, but last time I went to a hospital by myself, I almost died because of shoddy care--literally. So we don’t want to make that mistake again.)
My biggest gripe about all this (other than being so sick and possibly having to leave Taco while I fly in to the hospital) is that I can’t go the Potlatch tonight. I feel like the only kid in town to miss out on the local hoedown. It stinks. And I wanted to be there for my friend Stephanie. She puts so much work into these things.
So meanwhile, I have a super sore butt (that shot was a killer—although I am proud to announce that I did NOT faint); I feel like I’m breathing through a straw; I ache from head to toe; my head feels like it’s split open; I have a horrific cough. And there is a rabid fox in town.
I know there is some humor in here somewhere. I just need to find it.
Turns out I have pneumonia. Joy. So far, I haven’t found the humor in it—-but I’m still looking.
They gave me a peanut butter shot—-some A-bomb of antibiotics. It hurt like crazy. In fact, before he gave me the shot, he asked me if I have ever fainted. He said the shot is so painful it sometimes makes people faint. Now there’s a comment to instill confidence. The aide is a really nice guy—-name of Paul.
Paul phoned the doctor on call (in Bethel), and they wanted to fly me out to the hospital tonight, but there were no more flights tonight. So they gave me the peanut butter shot, put me on antibiotics, and let me go home until morning with strict instructions to drink lots of fluids. If I haven’t improved drastically, they will fly me out in the morning. I am hoping for a miraculous recovery so that I don’t have to leave Taco. (But just in case, we’ve made arrangements for him to stay with another couple until we get back. I would go by myself, but last time I went to a hospital by myself, I almost died because of shoddy care--literally. So we don’t want to make that mistake again.)
My biggest gripe about all this (other than being so sick and possibly having to leave Taco while I fly in to the hospital) is that I can’t go the Potlatch tonight. I feel like the only kid in town to miss out on the local hoedown. It stinks. And I wanted to be there for my friend Stephanie. She puts so much work into these things.
So meanwhile, I have a super sore butt (that shot was a killer—although I am proud to announce that I did NOT faint); I feel like I’m breathing through a straw; I ache from head to toe; my head feels like it’s split open; I have a horrific cough. And there is a rabid fox in town.
I know there is some humor in here somewhere. I just need to find it.
We've Survived--So Far
First of all, let me get this out of the way: I AM SICK!!! I feel like I have the world’s worst cold and sound like I have the world’s worst cough. I ache from head to toe; have no voice; am freezing cold; and basically miserable. There. Now that’s out of the way, I’ll get down to business.
Taco and I are now up in the bush with Keri. Tanner stayed in Idaho to finish the school year because…actually, I will explain that in the next blog. (If I go into it now, this thing could go on forever.)
Our trip here was crazy! We flew on three flights and were in five airports by the time we got to Anchorage. I will never understand why a trip that has you going south when you want to go north, and takes three planes when it could have taken one, is so much cheaper than a direct flight! Doesn’t make much sense to me. Maybe that’s why there is failing airlines.
Anyway, we started in Salt Lake City, then on to Denver, into Phoenix, and then stopped in Seattle. The Seattle stop was unscheduled; we had to refuel because of strong headwinds. We couldn’t make it all the way to Anchorage—and generally speaking, a frigid ocean isn’t the best landing spot for a jetliner. We finally made Anchorage at about 2:30 AM—4:30 Utah (and our bodies’) time. We were exhausted!
Since I am too cheap to pay a hundred bucks for a hotel just for three hours worth of sleep, we camped out at the terminal. The Anchorage terminals are different than most—the benches don’t have arms; they are made to sleep on. And that is what we did; or at least, that is what Taco did. I just sat there.
When the ticket desk finally opened for the bush planes, I discovered a problem with our tickets—we didn’t have any. Turns out that although I had bought one, we weren’t on their list. For the past three days, they had been unable to fly into the village because of weather, so there was a backlog of people wanting to take the flight.
We tried standby, but it became obvious that the plane was going to be full, so we got a hotel—which, by the way, was DISGUSTING! But the real annoyance about the hotel part is that it came highly recommended by none other than my husband. The smell in the first room about made me sick, so I asked for a different room. That one wasn’t a heck of a lot better. It was so gross, that I was hesitant to take a shower without wearing some kind of protective footwear. When I asked Keri what on earth he could have possibly liked about the place, it turns out he liked it because they fed him breakfast. Sure doesn’t take much to impress the man.
As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep yet because we had too much to do. The girl at the bush desk was awful. And she was going to charge us $300 for excess baggage. The bush planes don’t allow as many pieces of luggage as regular airlines do—although, with eight trips in and out, this was the first time someone was going to actually enforce it. Great. So Taco and I took a taxi to WalMart to buy some great big totes. Then we walked across the street to buy groceries, and took a cab back to the yucky hotel. We packed the totes with one bag each (those small suitcases with rollers), plus a lot of other clothes. We got rid of two bags and a bunch of other stuff, totaling 70 pounds each, so that we had more room in our suitcases for the groceries. Then we took the totes to a 24 hour post office (yes—there is a post office open 24/7 near the Anchorage airport—that’s the nature of the bush). It cost us $20 to ship each of the really big packages weighing 70 pounds.
Since we hadn’t eaten all day, we hit a buffet, and then went back to the yucky hotel, and SLEPT.
The real problem began the next morning when we realize that we’d miscalculated. Could it be the effect of running for three days on hardly any sleep? We had WAY more stuff than we could fit into the suitcases—both size and weight. So we took the bags of powdered milk (I’d bought two big cans of powdered milk, and then put them in freezer bags to transport them) and a bag of icing sugar, and duct taped them to my torso. We had Taco tuck in his undershirt, and we dropped about ten oranges down his shirt and two big bags of dehydrated sliced potatoes. He was not impressed. The oranges made him itch and the potatoes were scratchy—which if you think about it, is the perfect combination. The potatoes scratch the itches caused by the oranges. Anyway, I felt like a health food terrorist. Good thing there is no security check to get on the bush planes, or we never would have made it through.
Anyway, we finally got to the village. Yay! But by that time, I had thrown my back out, what with all the hauling luggage and stuff. So I spent the next three days alternating between pain meds and muscle relaxant—both of which knock me out. When the pain finally subsided, I awoke to discover that I was horribly sick. I have been absolutely miserable for over a week now. And worthless. So far, I am wondering when this trip is going to start being fun. And I’m sure Keri is wondering why the heck he wanted me out here in the first place.
Taco and I are now up in the bush with Keri. Tanner stayed in Idaho to finish the school year because…actually, I will explain that in the next blog. (If I go into it now, this thing could go on forever.)
Our trip here was crazy! We flew on three flights and were in five airports by the time we got to Anchorage. I will never understand why a trip that has you going south when you want to go north, and takes three planes when it could have taken one, is so much cheaper than a direct flight! Doesn’t make much sense to me. Maybe that’s why there is failing airlines.
Anyway, we started in Salt Lake City, then on to Denver, into Phoenix, and then stopped in Seattle. The Seattle stop was unscheduled; we had to refuel because of strong headwinds. We couldn’t make it all the way to Anchorage—and generally speaking, a frigid ocean isn’t the best landing spot for a jetliner. We finally made Anchorage at about 2:30 AM—4:30 Utah (and our bodies’) time. We were exhausted!
Since I am too cheap to pay a hundred bucks for a hotel just for three hours worth of sleep, we camped out at the terminal. The Anchorage terminals are different than most—the benches don’t have arms; they are made to sleep on. And that is what we did; or at least, that is what Taco did. I just sat there.
When the ticket desk finally opened for the bush planes, I discovered a problem with our tickets—we didn’t have any. Turns out that although I had bought one, we weren’t on their list. For the past three days, they had been unable to fly into the village because of weather, so there was a backlog of people wanting to take the flight.
We tried standby, but it became obvious that the plane was going to be full, so we got a hotel—which, by the way, was DISGUSTING! But the real annoyance about the hotel part is that it came highly recommended by none other than my husband. The smell in the first room about made me sick, so I asked for a different room. That one wasn’t a heck of a lot better. It was so gross, that I was hesitant to take a shower without wearing some kind of protective footwear. When I asked Keri what on earth he could have possibly liked about the place, it turns out he liked it because they fed him breakfast. Sure doesn’t take much to impress the man.
As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep yet because we had too much to do. The girl at the bush desk was awful. And she was going to charge us $300 for excess baggage. The bush planes don’t allow as many pieces of luggage as regular airlines do—although, with eight trips in and out, this was the first time someone was going to actually enforce it. Great. So Taco and I took a taxi to WalMart to buy some great big totes. Then we walked across the street to buy groceries, and took a cab back to the yucky hotel. We packed the totes with one bag each (those small suitcases with rollers), plus a lot of other clothes. We got rid of two bags and a bunch of other stuff, totaling 70 pounds each, so that we had more room in our suitcases for the groceries. Then we took the totes to a 24 hour post office (yes—there is a post office open 24/7 near the Anchorage airport—that’s the nature of the bush). It cost us $20 to ship each of the really big packages weighing 70 pounds.
Since we hadn’t eaten all day, we hit a buffet, and then went back to the yucky hotel, and SLEPT.
The real problem began the next morning when we realize that we’d miscalculated. Could it be the effect of running for three days on hardly any sleep? We had WAY more stuff than we could fit into the suitcases—both size and weight. So we took the bags of powdered milk (I’d bought two big cans of powdered milk, and then put them in freezer bags to transport them) and a bag of icing sugar, and duct taped them to my torso. We had Taco tuck in his undershirt, and we dropped about ten oranges down his shirt and two big bags of dehydrated sliced potatoes. He was not impressed. The oranges made him itch and the potatoes were scratchy—which if you think about it, is the perfect combination. The potatoes scratch the itches caused by the oranges. Anyway, I felt like a health food terrorist. Good thing there is no security check to get on the bush planes, or we never would have made it through.
Anyway, we finally got to the village. Yay! But by that time, I had thrown my back out, what with all the hauling luggage and stuff. So I spent the next three days alternating between pain meds and muscle relaxant—both of which knock me out. When the pain finally subsided, I awoke to discover that I was horribly sick. I have been absolutely miserable for over a week now. And worthless. So far, I am wondering when this trip is going to start being fun. And I’m sure Keri is wondering why the heck he wanted me out here in the first place.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Crazy Summer & Other Stuff
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Time for an update on life. We may not be in Alaska right now, but there is a lot going on.
Spring has sprung in Alakanuk. There is still snow and ice everywhere, but the buds have popped. Keri did his last rabbit hunt of the season. (The picture of Keri is when I went with him to check traps shortly before the boys and I left.) Tanner and Taco (Jeremy) and I made it down to Utah. (We were locked into our flights before Rachelle got her second extension to stay in France. So we came down anyway.) I was REALLY sick with a bad cough, but I’m getting better now.
Our summer vacation is going to be insane! It is a very busy time, with a lot of traveling. I feel like a person who has been thirsty for a long time, and then gets hit with a tidal wave. We’ve been in a place inaccessible by road, which limits the ground travel to short snow machine trips. And now it seems like we will be doing nothing but driving.
In the next three months, I will be making about 10 trips to Idaho and back for several track meets, two high school graduations, returning missionary (my sister Rachel’s son), EFY, and best of all, wedding stuff (bridal shower, etc. for Erin, my wonderful daughter-in-law). (I also get to spend time with Rachel and family, and with Erin's family.) We will be driving to Montana for a wedding (another of Rachel’s sons). We will drive to Los Angeles where we will fly out to Costa Rica for 3 ½ weeks; we will drive all over that country. We return to LA and then drive up to northern California to see Keri’s family; then back to southern California for my extended family reunion; and back to Utah. And that is just the highlights. (Keri gets down here June 4th--yay!--so he will be here for a chunk of the driving too.)
I figured out that when you add all the mileage together, I could have driven round-trip from Los Angeles to New York and back, and then started out again, and ended up in the midwest. Yikes. That's a lot of wheel time.
Keri is anxious to get down here with the family. It's hard to be alone where there is very little to do. He's my hero.
On the fun side, I’ve been able to hang around my future daughter-in-law, and I’m crazy about her! The more I’m around her, the more I like her. Just when I think I couldn’t possibly like her more, I do! Erin has a very sweet and kind nature, but is also feisty enough to stand up to Chris. I am quite pleased.
Life is good.
(By the way--have I mentioned lately that Rachelle gets home on May 25th? Ask me how long it will be, and I will tell you exactly. Not that I'm counting.)
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Shuttle Shuffle
The boys and I flew into Anchorage on Friday, and stayed at the Crown Plaza Hotel Friday and Saturday night. Great hotel! Very comfortable beds and friendly staff. I highly recommend them.
Anyway, we checked out Sunday, but our flight didn’t leave until just after midnight; so after we checked out, we hung around the hotel. (They said it was fine.) We had our bags piled on a luggage carrier, which we parked in the lounge—a large room off of the foyer. There were tables and chairs, comfortable couches, a big TV, and a bunch of books. We played cards, read, and basically just lounged around until about 10:30 that night.
The hotel has a free shuttle service to the airport—one of those white vans with a logo on the side. When we rode it to the hotel, the driver was very helpful, loading up our luggage and he was really friendly and chatty. I was headed to the front desk to see when the shuttle would be there, and I saw it pull up in front. So I ran and got the boys. “Hurry!” I said. “It just pulled up!” We grabbed our jackets, my computer, two backpacks, and the luggage carrier that our other bags were piled on, and headed for the door. We were really loaded down.
I waved to the driver as we headed to the back of the van. I was a little surprised that he didn’t come help us load the luggage, but figured he was a “do-it-yourself” type of driver. But the back door wouldn’t open, and he didn’t unlock it when we knocked on the back of the van. I figured he didn’t realize we were going with him, so I walked to the front and opened the passenger door. I said, “Can you open the back? We need to put our luggage in.” He was looking at me like I was nuts. So was the guy who had just climbed in the back. The driver said, “Uh…” and kept looking at me weird. I asked, “Aren’t you going to the airport?” He said, “Uh…no.” That’s when I took a good look at the logo on the side of the van. It said “Salvation Army.” How embarrassing.
Anyway, we checked out Sunday, but our flight didn’t leave until just after midnight; so after we checked out, we hung around the hotel. (They said it was fine.) We had our bags piled on a luggage carrier, which we parked in the lounge—a large room off of the foyer. There were tables and chairs, comfortable couches, a big TV, and a bunch of books. We played cards, read, and basically just lounged around until about 10:30 that night.
The hotel has a free shuttle service to the airport—one of those white vans with a logo on the side. When we rode it to the hotel, the driver was very helpful, loading up our luggage and he was really friendly and chatty. I was headed to the front desk to see when the shuttle would be there, and I saw it pull up in front. So I ran and got the boys. “Hurry!” I said. “It just pulled up!” We grabbed our jackets, my computer, two backpacks, and the luggage carrier that our other bags were piled on, and headed for the door. We were really loaded down.
I waved to the driver as we headed to the back of the van. I was a little surprised that he didn’t come help us load the luggage, but figured he was a “do-it-yourself” type of driver. But the back door wouldn’t open, and he didn’t unlock it when we knocked on the back of the van. I figured he didn’t realize we were going with him, so I walked to the front and opened the passenger door. I said, “Can you open the back? We need to put our luggage in.” He was looking at me like I was nuts. So was the guy who had just climbed in the back. The driver said, “Uh…” and kept looking at me weird. I asked, “Aren’t you going to the airport?” He said, “Uh…no.” That’s when I took a good look at the logo on the side of the van. It said “Salvation Army.” How embarrassing.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Our Trip Home
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The boys and I are now in Anchorage.
We left Alakanuk yesterday (Friday, April 10th) about 11:00 and traveled to Emmonak by snow machine. It was a really cold trip. Notice the picture taken from the school deck just before we left (the parking area with frosted trees behind).
The snow machine trip that normally takes 30 minutes took us 40 because we had to go so slowly. Tanner may be staying in the lower 48 for school next year, so we brought all of his stuff, plus what Taco and I will need over the summer. And we had to carry it in the sled behind the snow machine. And of course, there were four of us going, and we can only fit three on the machine. So Keri and Tanner and I rode on the machine, and Taco rode on top of the giant tote in the sled and held on tight. I rode looking back the entire trip. I couldn’t see him, but I could see his shadow. If there was too much bouncing, I would whack Keri on the arm, and he would slow down. I wanted to ride on the sled (because I didn’t want my son back there), but the others shot the idea down fast. The sled was weighed down enough without having me back there. The pictures are of us sitting in the middle of the Yukon River when Keri stopped to tighten Taco’s hood because it kept flying off. And Taco’s jacket isn’t gray—it is covered in snow and ice.
Our flight to Anchorage was awesome. We were in a big plane (see picture of the boys about to board). It had two seats on each side of the aisle instead of just one seat. And it had a stewardess! I’ve never heard of such a thing in the bush! She served juice in BIG cups, and she offered refills. And even better, there was a bathroom! That’s another first. There wasn’t running water in the bathroom, though. Instead, the sink was filled with packets of moist towelettes. But at least there was a working toilet.
And we are now sitting in Anchorage waiting for our flight out at midnight on Sunday night. We are in a nice hotel (thank goodness for Priceline). And Keri said that it’s a good thing we left when we did, because we probably wouldn’t have been able to get out over the weekend. A big storm hit and there’s no sign of it letting up—and nothing flies when the weather is like that.
But we are in warm Anchorage. It is 32 here right now. And it’s supposed to get up to 39. It’s a tropical paradise. So I’m going to go get ready for the day, and we are going to go out and enjoy the heat wave.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Road Trip
We are in a whirlwind of activity, getting ready to leave Alaska for three months. And so I am doing the logical thing. I am sitting down to write. Actually, I have to take a few minutes break, or I will break. And writing is calming for me. Relaxing. Therapeutic. It’s also an avoidance tactic—a great way to procrastinate the unpleasant. Basically, there is so much to do, I don’t know what to do next. And I have a strategy that I firmly stand by. Apparently it’s a popular strategy, because it is used by people the world over—especially politicians. It goes something like this: When you don’t know what to do, do nothing. So I am writing instead.
Keri went on a road trip. Yup. A road trip in an area where there are no roads. Go figure that one out.
He and two of the teachers took their snow machines 215 miles—just for fun. And they had a blast.
They first went to Nunam Iqua, a village about 12 miles southwest. It was so clear, that they could see all the way to the mountains at Scammon Bay, about 60 miles away. They didn’t even have to use the GPS—they just headed straight for the mountains. There was fresh powder on the ground, and Keri said it was like traveling over a field of diamonds. Once they hit Scammon, they headed over the pass, and on to Hooper Bay, about another 45 miles south.
In the Bush, there are no hotels or anything of the kind, so the local schools serve as the accommodation place. And that is where they stayed. They picked up the keys, and ended up sitting around visiting with the principal until after midnight. And once at the school, the three of them stayed up and yakked until almost 3:00 AM.
The next day, they went to Chevak, a village about 20 miles east, then headed north back to Scammon Bay, and then home to Alakanuk. Keri had a blast. He slalomed over open terrain, and even got airborne a couple of times. (I was annoyed about the airborne part—that snow machine costs a fortune—but he said there was so much powder, that it just settled in and kept on going).
When they finally got home, Keri looked like a popsicle—a popsicle that had just come in from playing and having a blast. I’m glad he went.
The downside of the trip was that he made the house reek like gasoline. We couldn’t figure it out. I walked around sniffing everything—his coat, his pack, his boots. I must not be part bloodhound, because I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. By the next day, we had headaches from the gas smell. We left the windows and outside door open for two days trying to get rid of the stench. (Snow was blowing into the entry, but we were desperate.) We finally found the source. The spare gas can had leaked some gas into a plastic bag that he had put away, and the bag had leaked onto the floor of the entryway. After a lot of scrubbing, the stench finally dissipated.
Thank goodness for Pine Sol.
Keri went on a road trip. Yup. A road trip in an area where there are no roads. Go figure that one out.
He and two of the teachers took their snow machines 215 miles—just for fun. And they had a blast.
They first went to Nunam Iqua, a village about 12 miles southwest. It was so clear, that they could see all the way to the mountains at Scammon Bay, about 60 miles away. They didn’t even have to use the GPS—they just headed straight for the mountains. There was fresh powder on the ground, and Keri said it was like traveling over a field of diamonds. Once they hit Scammon, they headed over the pass, and on to Hooper Bay, about another 45 miles south.
In the Bush, there are no hotels or anything of the kind, so the local schools serve as the accommodation place. And that is where they stayed. They picked up the keys, and ended up sitting around visiting with the principal until after midnight. And once at the school, the three of them stayed up and yakked until almost 3:00 AM.
The next day, they went to Chevak, a village about 20 miles east, then headed north back to Scammon Bay, and then home to Alakanuk. Keri had a blast. He slalomed over open terrain, and even got airborne a couple of times. (I was annoyed about the airborne part—that snow machine costs a fortune—but he said there was so much powder, that it just settled in and kept on going).
When they finally got home, Keri looked like a popsicle—a popsicle that had just come in from playing and having a blast. I’m glad he went.
The downside of the trip was that he made the house reek like gasoline. We couldn’t figure it out. I walked around sniffing everything—his coat, his pack, his boots. I must not be part bloodhound, because I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. By the next day, we had headaches from the gas smell. We left the windows and outside door open for two days trying to get rid of the stench. (Snow was blowing into the entry, but we were desperate.) We finally found the source. The spare gas can had leaked some gas into a plastic bag that he had put away, and the bag had leaked onto the floor of the entryway. After a lot of scrubbing, the stench finally dissipated.
Thank goodness for Pine Sol.
Monday, April 5, 2010
United in Poor Customer Service
I have done a lot of travelling in my time, and had some frustrating experiences along the way. (My trip to the Philippines was an insane story, but that’s for another time.)
My travel back and forth from Alaska so far has been tiring and adventurous, but positive. When I had to get back to Utah in December, Delta was golden. They went above and beyond to be helpful in getting me home at a moment’s notice. They were accommodating, they were caring, and they were sensitive. They are solidly set on having great customer service.
Then there is the other end of the spectrum. And that is where United Airlines hangs by their fingernails—about as uncooperative and uncaring as a company can get.
When planning our return trip for the boys and myself, I made the mistake of trying to save a few dollars by flying on United. Big mistake! And one that I won’t make again.
I planned our return trip to coincide with Rachelle’s arrival home. Monday morning, we were to take a snow mobile from Alakanuk to Emmonak, and then fly by bush plane to St. Marys and on to Anchorage. Monday night at midnight, we would catch the United flight from Anchorage and eventually end up in Salt Lake, arriving at the Salt Lake airport about 3 hours before Rachelle flew in from France. (We would have been in a total of six airports by the time we arrived.)
Rachelle ended up changing her return trip for six weeks later, so I called to see if I could change our tickets and stay here longer with Keri. Apparently, United outsources their “customer service” (a term used very loosely here) to India. I could hardly understand a word the guy said when he told me that it would cost a total of $450 to change ($150 per ticket). Well, forget that. We’ll just go ahead with our original plans.
Since the trip home is so expensive (you total three tickets, and it really adds up—we are paying for Keri’s in May), I got it in two parts. I paid for the Anchorage to SLC in March, and then went to book the bush part in April. (The bush part is as expensive, or more so than the Anchorage to SLC part.) But when I went to book the bush part of the trip and pulled up our confirmation, I realized to my horror that the flight didn’t leave at midnight on Monday night—it left a few minutes after midnight on Monday morning. That wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that there are no “direct” flights from our part of the bush to Anchorage over the weekend.
So we were left with three alternatives:
1. Take the long way to Anchorage, increasing the total fare by $300
2. Fly into Anchorage on Friday, and pay for a hotel and food for two days, and then “hang out” at the airport all day Sunday
3. Change our flight out of Anchorage for a total penalty fee of $450
I tried a fourth alternative: phone United and plead our case. See if they will work with us. Again, I reached India.
I knew it would take some doing, so I asked for a supervisor right off the bat. When I explained our situation and what I had mistakenly done, the guy actually laughed before he said, “Well, you can change it for $150 fee per ticket.”
Yup. I have definitely learned my lesson. I will NEVER fly United again.
My travel back and forth from Alaska so far has been tiring and adventurous, but positive. When I had to get back to Utah in December, Delta was golden. They went above and beyond to be helpful in getting me home at a moment’s notice. They were accommodating, they were caring, and they were sensitive. They are solidly set on having great customer service.
Then there is the other end of the spectrum. And that is where United Airlines hangs by their fingernails—about as uncooperative and uncaring as a company can get.
When planning our return trip for the boys and myself, I made the mistake of trying to save a few dollars by flying on United. Big mistake! And one that I won’t make again.
I planned our return trip to coincide with Rachelle’s arrival home. Monday morning, we were to take a snow mobile from Alakanuk to Emmonak, and then fly by bush plane to St. Marys and on to Anchorage. Monday night at midnight, we would catch the United flight from Anchorage and eventually end up in Salt Lake, arriving at the Salt Lake airport about 3 hours before Rachelle flew in from France. (We would have been in a total of six airports by the time we arrived.)
Rachelle ended up changing her return trip for six weeks later, so I called to see if I could change our tickets and stay here longer with Keri. Apparently, United outsources their “customer service” (a term used very loosely here) to India. I could hardly understand a word the guy said when he told me that it would cost a total of $450 to change ($150 per ticket). Well, forget that. We’ll just go ahead with our original plans.
Since the trip home is so expensive (you total three tickets, and it really adds up—we are paying for Keri’s in May), I got it in two parts. I paid for the Anchorage to SLC in March, and then went to book the bush part in April. (The bush part is as expensive, or more so than the Anchorage to SLC part.) But when I went to book the bush part of the trip and pulled up our confirmation, I realized to my horror that the flight didn’t leave at midnight on Monday night—it left a few minutes after midnight on Monday morning. That wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that there are no “direct” flights from our part of the bush to Anchorage over the weekend.
So we were left with three alternatives:
1. Take the long way to Anchorage, increasing the total fare by $300
2. Fly into Anchorage on Friday, and pay for a hotel and food for two days, and then “hang out” at the airport all day Sunday
3. Change our flight out of Anchorage for a total penalty fee of $450
I tried a fourth alternative: phone United and plead our case. See if they will work with us. Again, I reached India.
I knew it would take some doing, so I asked for a supervisor right off the bat. When I explained our situation and what I had mistakenly done, the guy actually laughed before he said, “Well, you can change it for $150 fee per ticket.”
Yup. I have definitely learned my lesson. I will NEVER fly United again.
Conference
Wasn’t conference wonderful?!
We were able to listen to all the sessions on the phone. We just called in on our regular line (the one we call in on for church each Sunday). They had us hooked up that way. I even listened to Priesthood Session, since it was on speaker phone in the living room.
The only problem was with the final session. For some reason, we didn’t get hooked up. Ten minutes into the session, it was pretty obvious that something was wrong, not just delayed. So I phoned the Branch President at home. (He lives in Anchorage and was watching conference with his family.) He tried to figure out what was wrong, but finally he just laid his phone in front of his television and we heard it that way. So we missed the first twenty minutes or so. And then it also cut out a few times later, so missed some other stuff—including part of the cow story (the lost calves). We’ll have to read them in the Ensign.
I am SO grateful for modern technology! It allows us to hear and see things going on around the world. I am so glad there are smart people who know how to make it happen.
We were able to listen to all the sessions on the phone. We just called in on our regular line (the one we call in on for church each Sunday). They had us hooked up that way. I even listened to Priesthood Session, since it was on speaker phone in the living room.
The only problem was with the final session. For some reason, we didn’t get hooked up. Ten minutes into the session, it was pretty obvious that something was wrong, not just delayed. So I phoned the Branch President at home. (He lives in Anchorage and was watching conference with his family.) He tried to figure out what was wrong, but finally he just laid his phone in front of his television and we heard it that way. So we missed the first twenty minutes or so. And then it also cut out a few times later, so missed some other stuff—including part of the cow story (the lost calves). We’ll have to read them in the Ensign.
I am SO grateful for modern technology! It allows us to hear and see things going on around the world. I am so glad there are smart people who know how to make it happen.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
My Son, the Dork
I am a fraud. I talk tough, but haven’t followed through very well.
Since I was a new mom, I always said that when my kids get into the “marriage” realm, that I won’t try to influence them to marry someone, and I will stay completely neutral until after the wedding. I guess this was an “overboard” reaction to some unhappy marriages I saw around me. There were just too many friends who I heard say something to the effect of, “I knew I was making a mistake, but I figured I had to marry him/her because…” the invitations had been sent out…the money had been spent…(and my favorite doozie)…my family really liked him/her. So I decided early that I wasn’t going to let my kids feel pressure to marry someone. I’ve always reserved the right to try to talk them OUT of something if I thought they were making a mistake—and I have interfered in that area more than once. But I would never try to talk them INTO something. I would be totally neutral through the entire event—right up until the “I do”s were said.
Yup. I talk big.
My oldest son, Chris, recently got engaged to Erin. She is an adorable girl who I only met once last summer during one of his baseball games. They were just dating as friends and there was no indication that they might get married a year later, but she made quite an impression on me. She had her younger sisters there with her simply because they like Chris and had wanted to come along. And she was great with them. She is an open person who is confident enough in herself that she doesn’t have the need to put on a show for others. She is well grounded and has a good head on her shoulders. And what I’ve learned since then is that she has an incredible family. I’m crazy about her mom. How often does that happen? The mother-in-laws well on their way to becoming best friends!
Well, this morning, I missed a call from Chris. He left a monotone voice mail which said, “Mom, call me back. Erin and I just broke up.”
I was stunned! My first thought was, “I wonder if it can be salvaged.”
I couldn’t for the life of me think what would have happened to break up over. They seemed to adore each other. They never argued—Erin wouldn’t put up with it. They seemed to communicate well. And I knew Chris must be devastated. Every day he tells me how much he loves her, how wonderful she is, how cute she looks in pigtails, how he wishes they could just get married NOW.....
I figured whatever the problem, it must be able to be saved. So I called him back to find out what had happened before I phoned Erin’s mom, Carole. Between Carole and me, I was sure we could help our kids through the problem. So much for not wanting to get involved.
When Chris answered, all I could say in my still-shocked emotional state was, “WHAT HAPPENED?!” He sounded devastated, and said, “It was the date.” I couldn’t even think straight. Did they get in a fight on their date last night? Was it a difficult day for Erin and they got in a fight about it? I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, so I just repeated, “WHAT HAPPENED?!”
That’s when he started to laugh and said, “It’s the date. It’s April first.” Good grief—I’d been April fooled.
Yup. I raised a dork. Now Erin is getting him, so she can deal with it. And I claim no responsibility for his dorkiness.
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