Reading: Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

In the midst of: Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Not yet given up on: John Milton, Paradise Lost;

On deck: Don Quijote

Moving: gardening

House:

Garden:

13 May 2002: Coming home.

4:15. Wake-up call. I woke from a dream in which Haitch and I had walked home from work together, and when we got home I noticed that it had been a very fast walk. It was only 4:15. Then the call came. Thanks Haitch! We'd arranged for two, in case the first didn't take. The first did take. I was admirably vertical in time for RDC to say we wouldn't need the second call--that is, don't wake him again. I peed, I brushed my teeth, I drank a lot of water, I dressed, I staggered downstairs.

4:30 My taxi was right on time. The driver amused me through my stupor by trying to talk hockey to me. I know the name of the Denver team and no more, so I disappointed him. On the way I saw the only two signs worth photographing, and I didn't:

7-11. Open 24 Hours

Someone didn't get the memo about how the store was named. Second, we'd already passed the Fir Street exit sign and I'd figured we were in the tree section of town (the battle section is near UBC: Balaclava, Blenheim, Dundee) but still the detour sign that advised drivers to Use Hemlock amused me.

4:50 Vancouver airport. Customs wouldn't open until 5:00, and holy shit, was that the line?

The lines at Vancouver airport:

• Check-in
• Customs the First. In this line, I had taken my place among several people who probably prefer to be called "oldsters." Here my troubles began, with apologies to Vladek Speigelman. Their being way too chatty at 4:50 a.m. wasn't so bad, but when a male had gone off to wring out his prostate leaving a female apparently incapable of wheeling a wheelie when the line began to move, I was just not awake enough to deal. My nose in Invisible Man and my brain on queue standby, I didn't pick up on this until the flurry of motion of hte unassociated woman next to me lifting the bag to her own cart clued me into the fact that we ought to have been moving yet hadn't and now were. And, despite the sook-sook-sook of the agents, the old folks still dug their papers from their capacious handbags only upon reaching the head of the line.
• After being funneled through Duty-Free--which must be a nightmare of luggage trolleys during peak hours, Customs the Second, to scan my passport.
• Customs the Third relieved me of my customs card. I had bought nothing but postcards and stamps. Glad that Daedalus had reminded me to bring along a spool of twine, I heard here for the first but certainly not the last time an old man say that all these lines and mazes were like Disneyland except the ride at the end wasn't as good.
• A fifth line relieved me of ten Canadian dollars as an aiport improvement fee. Also the comedian delivered his auto-amuse Disney crack again. I have a strong and reflexive auto-amuse function myself, but my voices are all in my head where they ought to be.
• X-ray. I turned on my camera, my phone, and my Palm Pilot. No bomb could ever be made with a primitive screen, nosirree.

Then I was done. The old people veered off to annoy whomever they were flying with and I sat trying to sleep until I could board, and when I did board the plane was less than half full, so I could stretch out on three seats and really sleep.

In Denver, I zipped out, people-mover train escalator and waaay the hell over to the east terminal. Allegedly the west economy lot had been full when I arrived Thursday evening and the east lot had spaces available. This must have been that new definition of "available" they use on opposite day. I did find a spot in the east lot and did not have to use either the garage (more than twice as much a day) or the remote lots (whose marginally cheaper price could never make up for their being in Nebraska), but there were maybe a score of spaces left, off in the very last row, off the edge of the map like when everyone was chasing the BFG, and if I had parked any farther east Reepicheep would have had to come rescue me in his coracle.