From: richard@Apple.COM (a flying squirrel)
Newsgroups: soc.motss
Subject: Re: What to do for NEW YEAR'S EVE in Los Angeles?
Date: 6 Jan 93 03:04:53 GMT
Organization: Xiola Blue

FJ!! writes:

>> (Earlier, I said:)
>> Watch a big Duraflame log in the fireplace and listen to Buddy Guy.  After
>> what I went through from 26-Dec through 30-Dec, it was all I could handle.
>
>Anything you'd like to share?

Well, since you've asked, I have given a synopsis below.  Go to the
next article now unless you like family dirt and flying adventure
stories.


1. I originally plan to fly commercially on 26-Dec to Tucson, AZ for
the holiday with my family.  At the last minute, I decide to borrow an
airplane and fly it myself.  Since the weather looks fine and Brad
thinks it would be fun, we blast off, almost.  The battery is dead 
and requires a jump start.  We leave one hour behind schedule,
barely escaping from the fog.  For you aviation types, I had to 
request a SVFR out of SJC's control zone to get out.  Including a
fuel stop in Palm Springs, our trip lasts about seven hours (distance of
around one thousand miles).

2. I forget that AZ is one hour ahead of CA in the winter, and also encounter
more headwind than expected.  We arrive ninety minutes later than my ETA.
My father is worried sick, and my stepmother is pissed: the big holiday
dinner is now late, thanks to me.  Good news: the deserts look magnificent
at 10,000 feet in the winter.  How the desserts look is yet to be
determined.

3. For the second year in a row, my stepsister and her lover bring their
two young children.  In addition to sensing a never ending rift between
the two women due to my stepsister being the biological mother of both
kids, the dinner and _all_ proceedings during the holiday are expected
to revolve around the children.  The kids are spoiled in the sense that
the word `no' is never used.  Thus, the television has to come on during
dinner so the kids stay happy.  I am not able to enjoy a pleasant 
conversation with my father due to either screaming or the boob tube.
I miss having my stepaunt there as well -- she could not make it.  She's
a self-described sixty-ish Latina bull dyke.  We get along fabulously,
of course, as we are both trouble-makers.

4. Tensions continue throughout our stay.  In addition, I am informed that
my stepsister is angry because I do not spend most of my time entertaining
the children.  Also, it becomes apparent that I am expected to eventually
become a male role-model for the kids since they have no "daddy".  No one
asks if I am interested in this.  The undercurrents of how "selfish" I am
for not helping raise these children starts.  Oh, they are also upset that
Brad and I are staying at a hotel and not the house.  The house only has two
bedrooms, of which one is taken over by the mommies and the kids, and my 
parents in the other one.  We were expected to sleep on the floor in the
living room.  Did I mention that the kids get up at 05:30 every morning?
Our decision to not stay at the house turns out to be a good one.

5. The weather gets awful.  I cannot depart on the 28th, as planned.  One
extra night lodging, and more tensions.  At one point, my stepsister tries
to explain why she needs both cars and both bathrooms of the house to keep
the children happy.  I am beginning to lose my patience and really feel
sorry for the kids.

6. The weather is still awful on the 29th.  I pay to have the owner of
the plane come down to help fly it back, as I have not quite completed
my instrument rating (checkride in March, with any luck).  We depart into
fairly icky weather around 13:00 on the 29th.  Four hours later, I shoot
an approach into Palm Springs down to minimums.  Tired squirrel.

7. We refuel and attempt to take off into the storm again.  Two hours later,
we land at Van Nuys due to heavy icing and strong winds.  At one point,
LA Center said our ground speed was about thirty knots; the airspeed indicator
fluctuated between 55 (stall horn!) and 80.  We were unable to maintain
altitude due to wind and ice.  Turbulence was pretty gnarly.  We stay in
a hotel in Van Nuys for the night: another night of lodging, plus dinner
and drinks.  And why did we take off into the storm?  We all wanted to
get home.  However, we realized that IFR flight at night in IMC with
tired pilots is a recipe for disaster.  Not that my holiday wasn't 
a minor disaster by itself.  Oops, almost forgot: IFR = instrument
flight rules, IMC = icky weather.

8. We leave the next day, and have a fairly uneventful flight back to 
San Jose.  That is, until we land and my car is not there.  Four hours
and $200 later, I retrieve it from the SJPD for parking without a permit
(which I had left in the glove box and failed to display).

9. The next day, I accidentally delete 40 files off my Macintosh.  It takes
seven hours to reconstruct them. 

That night, I burned a Duraflame log, listened to Buddy Guy, and relaxed
on the couch.  I sure am glad 1993 is here. 
-- 
a flying squirrel is: richard@apple.com  Apple Computer Inc.

"Sex is a filter, and it admits a certain vision."  - William S. Burroughs
Newsgroups: soc.motss