Every three years, my Dad's family gets together to celebrate our family. It has drawn over three hundred family members from both the Slovenien and the Italian sides, and it is an amazing thing to see this many people in one place, and realize that you're related to most of 'em!
Linda and I have attended many of these reunions, when they were held at the Browndale Fire Hall, and when we exceeded the capacity of the hall and it was moved to the Sportsmen's Club, a picnic area. Forest City is a small community about thirty minutes north of Scranton Pennsylvania where my Dad grew up. It used to be coal mining country, We used to visit when I was a kid, usually around Easter when the family would gather at my great-grandmother's home. The town is built on the side of a mountain, and I always thought it was a great place with a beautiful view. I never really paid much attention to the slag piles that were on the other side of the tracks. To me, it was an adventure of it's own.
We got reservations for this particular event months ago. Because of vacation scheduling, we couldn't spare an entire week to drive, so we elected to fly. Florence to Charlotte, then on to Philadelphia, and finally into Scranton around 10:45 PM. Rather than drive to Waymart (about 30 miles north) at that time of night, we decided on reservations at the Clarion in Scranton. We have reservations at The Gravity Inn, a small hotel/bed and breakfast, for Saturday and Sunday nights. Then we fly back to Florence on Monday.
With the arthritis in Linda's knees, I realized that the long walks through the airports would ruin this trip for her, so I arranged with US Airways to have an electric cart available at each stop to take us to the next gate. As it turned out, I was glad that I did.
We went through the usual strip-search at the Florence airport, and waited at the gate. The plane arrived with about 15 minutes to spare before it was supposed to take off again. Because we had the "special handling" form, we boarded second, right after the lady in the wheelchair. Amazingly, we pulled away from the terminal right on time.
28 minutes later, we touched down in Charlotte, at the far end of the E Concourse. As promised, one of those electric carts showed up and carried us up the long corridor to the escalator. At the top, another cart was waiting to whisk us to the far end of D Concourse. I'm pretty sure that, had we walked that long walk, Linda would have been limping at the end. I enjoyed the ride myself -- I'm gonna have to figure out how to take her on all my trips, so I can ride along!
We had about a two and a half hour layover, and we found the Carolina Beer Company spot at the end of D Concourse. They serve their own micro-brews and sandwiches. I really liked their Irish Red, and Linda enjoyed the Strawberry Ale. We shared a beef brisket sandwich that had to be the best thing I've ever tasted in an airport.
Back to the gate, where we were boarded on time. I used the form for the electric cart as a means to board early, giving Linda a little more time to navigate the aisles (and ensure that we had room in the overhead for our carry-ons). It was a full flight, but still we managed to take off on time, and arrived in Philiadelphia, on time. We were at the end of Terminal A, and our next flight left from Terminal F.
The electric cart was waiting, and we hopped on. The driver opined that the journey to our next gate was about a mile and a half, but we could feel the breeze as he sped through the concourse. He dropped us at the top of an escalator, where we caught a shuttle bus to Terminal F. Even with the advantage of a ride, we arrived at the terminal 10 minutes before scheduled boarding was to begin, and gratefully, another cart showed up to takes us to the far end of the terminal. This is where things slowed down.
Our 8:50 flight to Scranton had been delayed until 9:09 because the plane couldn't be located. Not too bad, until at 9 o'clock they announced that the plane was on its way and would arrive around ten. The departure time was pushed back to 10:40. I was beginning to wonder if we could transfer our car rental and drive to Scranton.
At the next gate, the passengers destined for Birmingham were in similar straits. They had a plane, but they were missing a flight attendant, and their departure time had been pushed back several hours. All in all, a large group of unhappy travelers. They were made even more unhappy when their gate was changed from F36 to F9, all the back up the hall!
When the clerk came over to the gate, I suggested that, since they now had a free plane, maybe they should use that one to get us to Scranton. Imagine my surprise when they posted the sign for Wilkes-Barre/Scranton! Only problem was that the flight number wasn't for our flight. Now we had two flights to the same airport, scheduled to depart 9 minutes apart.
We actually left around 10:45 with the second plane right behind us. We had to wait for two hours with a plane sitting there idle, and the second group of passengers got to leave on time (or close to it)! Many of the passengers on our flight actually applauded as we pulled away from the terminal, as if they had pulled off a miracle to be leaving at all!
The flight was only twenty minutes long. It seemed that we went up, then came right back down again. We gathered our bags, and headed for the rental desk. The car was waiting for us, and we finally arrived at our hotel at midnight. No restaraunt, no bar. We finally got to bed around twelve-thirty, and I'm posting this just before 7, waiting for Linda to wake up so I can get some breakfast before heading north to Waymart.
All adventures have (and will have) both good and bad experiences. Over all, this wasn't too bad. To paraphrase W.C. Fields, "Frankly, my dear, I'd rather NOT be in Philadelphia!"
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