Change Is Complex

I am sitting here with the new Blogger set-up and an iPad, trying to figure out how to edit the last post. No progress. I suppose that could have taken up the last thirty days and may be the reason for the quiet from these parts. But that would not be telling the truth, and truth-telling is especially important now. The real reason is that I could not remember my password. When last we left the intrepid Class of 2012, there were four of us at the airport, and three on the way, with time running out. Some pressured phone calls ensued. It was agreed upon that, at the very least, those present at the airport should board the plane. If all else failed, my wife would bring the prodigals to Anchorage on the evening flight. All of us were booked on the overnight flight to Chicago, so barring weather problems or equipment failure, the separation would only have lasted a few hours. On we went, as the last call for boarding was made. I tried to prolong the TSA process by bringing a small dog on board the plane. This apparently now requires chemical examination to assure that I have made no attempt to smuggle a bomb aboard inside my dog. He weighs seven pounds. In order that security be maintained, I stood in my socks holding a small, mop-like animal (he really needed a haircut) while something that looked like the Stridex pads that we used to use to battle teenage acne was passed over us and submitted for scientific analysis. This might ordinarily annoy me, as I seem to be temperamentally unsuited to the process now in place to protect me from various evil-doers. However, in this case, I was hoping to halt the progress of the airplane and my fellow passengers to Anchorage. It was all good. Heck, they could have searched all of my bags at that moment. It was all about buying time. I boarded at the back of the aircraft and took a seat in the next to the last row. We were flying in an aircraft called a Boeing 737 Combi. The fuselage of the plane is divided between cargo in the fore section and passengers in the tail. (Sort of the mullet haircut of airplanes-business in the front, and party in the back. Kind of depends on the number of Alaska Amber Ales that we can buy and consume during the one hour flight to Anchorage.)I was seated on the aisle across from two of our girls and an old coot in a "Deadliest Catch" baseball cap, a true mark of Alaskan tough-guy spirit (or posturing). He seemed to be muttering about something, and he seemed to be irritated about whatever it was. Not my problem. As we awaited takeoff, I could hear the flight attendants in the back of the plane talking. Something to the effect that we were waiting on three passengers, two of whom had apparently called saying that they were in a taxi on the way to the airport and would be arriving in minutes. Time for a sigh of relief. My wife and the two remaining students climbed up the stairs shortly afterward, and one of them went to take her seat. Unfortunately, her boarding pass suggested that her seat assignment was for the place occupied by Mr Deadliest Catch. She tried to explain this to him, but he would have none of it. He cited a higher authority in support of his refusal to move for an eighteen-year-old girl who actually had the ticket for the seat in question. It seems that "the stewardess" had said that he could "sit anywhere." I considered having him identify the flight attendant in question for further conversation on the subject, but we were all on the plane and it was time to get out of town. Besides, I wouldn't want any angry "crab fishermen" on my conscience. What if this affected his concentration the next time that he was at the rail on the storm-tossed Bering Sea? Some Red Lobster patron might find a nasty surprise in their Utlimate Feast. I gave Valerie (the student in question)my seat, so that she could talk to her classmates on the flight, and took the seat behind me in the back row. No altruism here. Combos are boarded from the rear. I had the first row out on landing in Anchorage. Next: Hours of fun at the Ted Stevens International Airport.