Getting back to, well, getting back: Sunday was my return flight, and ... well, my father's turned 70 years old this month. We had the idea that it'd be fun to put together a book with photos from his life. The trouble has been that I've only been back in New Jersey two and a half weeks since January, and haven't had the time to go through photo albums and scan things. My mother hasn't had time either, what with getting the house ready to go on sale. My father, well, it'd kind of spoil the surprise if he were to pick photos. I'd hoped to have time this visit to pick out and scan something, but, no, I didn't have nearly the time for it. So my mother picked out a couple of albums, including their wedding album (noting that my father won't notice if it's gone for a couple of weeks), for me to take back home, use, and bring back when I can. This is certainly the practical thing to do, and I put them in my carry-on luggage.
The Trenton airport is, as I said, adorably tiny, and the car rental desk was closed when I got there, but I was able to park my car in their designated lot spaces and slip the keys --- with difficulty --- into their drop box. (There's not really enough space.) I watched the plane sitting around from the lounge on the top floor --- the four-penguins one, just as I went out on --- and with about twenty minutes before boarding went through the security line to the tiny, tiny little waiting area, labelled Gate 2.
At least, I tried. You see, apparently, old photo albums, particularly ones from 1970 when nobody even imagined X-raying airport passenger luggage, look ``weird'' under the scanners, and the security agents really wanted to look through these things some more. I kind of expected they might, particularly as I believe the wedding album at least has gold-fringed pages that have to show up explosively weird under X-ray. But besides having to take all the stuff out of my bag, they were also trying to process everybody else --- all these many people in Michigan State sweatshirts --- who also were trying to get through security at the last possible minute because there's so little space and no bathroom in the secured area.
Eventually they determined that these old photos weren't a threat to the airplane's integrity, despite their high content of 1970s fashions, and I got through just in time to catch the start of boarding. Our plane was Erma the Ermine, which appeared from out of nowhere in the time it took me to go through security.
The flight was routine, and we got to Detroit on time, which was kind of a drag actually as the bus to take me to East Lansing wouldn't leave for another hour and a half and the airport was mostly closed up, so, being stuck on the plane wouldn't have bothered me any. The bus, however, ran a little late as the driver explained that he failed to pick up someone at one of the Ann Arbor stops and had to go back. (I believe he went to the second stop, thinking there wasn't any at the first, and had to correct that.) No matter: the important thing is I was back home and holding bunny_hugger again.
Trivia: The London Conference of April 1864 (regarding the Second Schleswig War) was the only international gathering at which the German Confederation was represented. Source: The Struggle For Mastery In Europe, 1848 - 1918, A J P Taylor.
Currently Reading: Sovereignty and an Empty Purse: Banks And Politics In The Civil War, Bray Hammond. Man, the guy who sold Springfield the Monorail could totally have swindled the North and South out of their whole treasuries. (Come to think of it, someone did swipe Colonial New Jersey's treasury but that was just the one time.)
PS: Counting From 52 to 11,108, a follow-up on fun number-making problems.