Thanksgiving Surprise (No, It Is Not A Meat) - November 20 - 25, 2007

It is amazing when a plan comes to fruition, and even more so when it is perfect.

I have to hand it to my father. He is a man known for his inability to keep secrets from my mother. Perhaps this is why they have such a strong, lasting relationship that is becoming more rare as our society progresses throughout time. Maybe both my parents know just how bad a marriage can be, and as a Family Law Attorney and Marriage & Family Therapist they have the tools and intelligence to work through even the most rough times.

I really think my father is no good at staying quiet because my mom trained him well.

Regardless, somehow, for two and one-half months, my father kept my secret quiet. We are scheming men, but that made my visit home all-the-more fun for everybody.

My secret trip home for Thanksgiving could not have been better calendared - it was planned at a time where I needed familiar faces and places. You know, a place where everybody knows your name, and, most of the time, they are always glad you came.

I was in a bad place mentally, it seemed. I was losing all hope, and my ability to function was severely dampened. I do not think I could have waited another week for the trip home, but alas, we shall never know because I did, in fact, make it to California.

I was picked up at the airport by Sarah, and precariously called my father, as is custom, to let him know I landed safely. He did not pick up the phone, I presume, because the time difference (11:00PM Pacific Time = 2:00AM Eastern Time) would have set off alarms to my Mother. Smart man.

Again, keep in mind that the only family member who knew of my arrival was my father. My mother and siblings were unaware. In the weeks leading up to the surprise, I had been fantastically vague and elusive in all my communications, making my best effort to never lie.

Even upon my arrival, when I was less than 15 minutes from my brother's domicile, I was in the city, and when asked what I was up to, I replied that I was "in the city with some friends," or, when I was at the train station, I said "I am at the train station…". You know, the truth, packaged up nice and pretty so that everybody would think I was on the East Coast.

Anyhow, I got to the airport to fly to the West Coast more than two-and-a-half hours early. My roommate, who was kind enough to drive me from school to the airport, and I had expected plenty of traffic and long lines at the airport. We were wrong on both accounts. I had packed to carry my luggage onto the plane, but with such ease of checking the baggage, I figured "why not?" I should stop figuring, because this was to be a long, needless progression of debauchery and stupidity.

I leisurely walked to my gate, having all the time in the world to frolic willy-nilly about the concourse. I sat down knowing that law school would be put on hold, and that I could set my mind free. I looked down casually at my ticket stub and the ticket jacket in which it was neatly sitting. Cue the horror crescendo. Release the shrieks of terror!

I looked at the baggage claim sticker, and thought to myself "I am not Julie Cohen, and I am certainly not going to Seattle!" Well, I was going to California, but my baggage was taking a vacation to beautiful Washington. I quickly alerted the desk staff, who told me that they would work on it and get back to me. I was asked to return in about 30 minutes for a status update.

Upon returning, after having called my father to relay the dismal failure that is the airline system, they told me that my bag should be on my plane, and that no problems are foreseen. This was the first lie I was told by Delta, the airline that used to be of my favorite budget carriers.

I arrived in California - having ridden cross-country in a luxurious exit aisle seat with all the leg room a person of my 5-foot 5-inch stature can muster - and waited for my baggage. I waited. And waited. And then went to the missing baggage office. [It hits me that any industry that has an office that is dedicated to the company's relentless and abundant screw-ups says a lot about the industry.] I relayed to them my baggage tag conundrum, and was assured (with witnesses present) that my bags were not in Seattle "for sure". Lie two.

I then proceeded to spout off the following frustrated monologue: "You mean to tell me that instead of losing my baggage in the incompetent way that you should have lost my baggage, you instead lost my baggage in a way you shouldn't have lost my baggage, even though my baggage should not have been lost in the first place, and on top of all of this, you have no idea where my baggage is or how long it will take to get me the baggage that you shouldn't have lost and do not know where it is?"

Enter dumbfounded look on the face of the Delta staff member. Enter dumbfounded, but what I can only assume was a smug look on Sarah's face (who was my witness and my ride). Apply pernicious feelings and demeanor to me (that were the result of my frustration).

Did I mention that I was wearing the same suit that I had been wearing at the hearing I was at today (Tuesday, November 25)? Well, I was wearing a suit. I wanted a change of clothes, and I definitely wanted new underwear now.

Without exhausting the topic, I told them that I would not be home until Thursday, and that if my baggage came in before then I would need it delivered elsewhere. They took my phone number and told me that they would call before they delivered it so that I could tell them where to take it. Lie three. They called before, but could not change where they were delivering the baggage, so it took a lot of creativity on my father's part to conceal both the bag and the fact that it belonged to me.

The windup of the story is this: my bag did, in fact, end up in Seattle, as evidenced by Julie Cohen's baggage tag on my bag upon my receipt of the bag, and I had a lovely time speaking with Delta Representatives on the phone who told me that the only way they will reimburse me for any expenses (ie: a new pair of underwear or a toothbrush) was if I were going to a funeral. My first thought was to respond: "if I kill somebody, say a lost baggage representative from Delta, would that count?" I decided that would not go over well, and proceeded to explain/argue, as is my nature, the ins-and-outs of how an exception to a policy that is applied the same every time, is in fact a policy, and how treating one person differently because of a demographic is, in some civilized societies, referred to as prejudice "you know, like enslaving black people and not letting Jews own businesses." Prejudice? Bigotry? Hmmm.

Anyhow, I got shafted.

I somehow coordinated with my Father to meet he and my mother for breakfast on the morning of Thanksgiving. When one restaurant was closed, he had to relay to me a new meeting point - I never could figure out how he did this with my mom in the car with him. We finally got to one restaurant, and very stealthily, I sneaked up behind my mother.

I almost killed her.

Heart attack struck when she turned around - but not really. She was stunned, and was a mix of giddy and enthralled by me. I mean, really, who thinks they are going to see their son who has been encamped on the other side of the country when his visit was unplanned?

The rest of the visit did not go exactly as planned, though I am not complaining. I spent a lot of time with my family - more than I had anticipated - and was unable to see all the friends I had wanted. That was the only downside.

I had been worried that I would have such an enjoyable time that I would not want to go back to the East Coast, which would be a problem, or that I would realize how much I miss California and be even more homesick upon my return. Either way, I had not wanted to have that occur. I decided to keep my sleeping habits the same (and not switch over time zones) and that I would operate in the same fashion. Hopefully it works.

Upon my return, I have two weeks of classes remaining, and then finals descend. It will be a time of high-stress and characteristic anxiety. I aim to "own" finals. I just need to get down to business.

I really needed this trip.