The Grad School Diaries: Airports, Part II

Over the past forty years or so I’ve been on at least three dozen types of airplane, ranging in size from an ultralight aircraft that weighs less than I do to a C-5 Galaxy capable of shipping an Abrams tank (or a squadron of helicopters), and in speed from a hot-air balloon (top speed: how fast is the wind blowing?) to a 747-SP with a cruising speed of 620 knots and a top speed it can’t actually reach without burning up. I’ve traveled on one, two, three and four engines; piston, turbine, turbojet and lawnmower power plants; avgas, jet-A, kerosene and regular unleaded. I’ve been to three continents, a dozen or so islands, nine foreign countries and thirty-five of the United States, and more airports, airfields and airstrips than I can actually keep track of anymore. But I’ve never had seats with this much leg room before…

My stepdaughter and I are on the second leg of a five-part voyage from East Lansing, Michigan to Apple Valley, California, aboard a relatively new Airbus 319 variant I’ve never seen before. For the most part it resembles other Airbus products I have ridden – which is to say, cleanly designed, easily-maintained, and a bit cramped if you’re over 6 feet tall – but this one has a curious exit row, placed between the first class and economy sections. There’s literally six feet of space between the row of seats we’re in and the bulkhead, or a greater distance than I could reach if I wanted to. I’m not sure what we did to rate such prime seats, but perhaps word has filtered down from the reservations people to the ramp agents that we’re flying in a family emergency. Or perhaps it’s the twenty I slipped the people at the gate; you never know. It’s certainly the most comfortable seat I’ve had since the last time I flew first class – and we could definitely use it under the circumstances…

Normally, it wouldn’t be possible for a doctoral student to just pick up and bolt during the middle of a semester – which is to say, one could, but he or she wouldn’t still be a doctoral student afterwards. Fortunately, I’ve been able to find someone to guest lecture for my class on Monday, and someone else to proctor the midterm I’m giving on Wednesday. I’ve had to drop one of the classes I’m taking and skip a week of the other, but there will be time to make both of them up later, assuming there is a later. I’m still not sure how much trouble I’m going to end up in with my department over this, and frankly, I don’t care; I’m already a week later than I really should have been, and I’ve been cursing these circumstance essentially non-stop since Sunday morning. Under any other conditions I’d have told my employers where they could put their expectations of me and bolted for California last Friday – which would have meant that my wife would not have had to deal with the loss of her mother alone…

It’s not the first loss she has faced; it’s not even the first parent she’s lost. But it’s the first such event I couldn’t be with her for, and even if she can forgive me for this (which also remains to be seen) I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for it. I don’t know how you can make all of the right choices, do all of the logical and reasonable things, cover all of your responsibilities, and still have things come out this wrong, but then that’s the point: it’s all of my responsibilities except for the biggest one. A great lady has left us, and we are all the poorer for it; and I have failed in the greatest challenge of my life, and I don’t know how to make things right again – or even if I can…

So, for the moment, let’s just stay here, in the belly of this great bird, as it makes its way across the darkening sky. Listening to good music on iPods, drinking all of the free soft drinks, munching on the snacks I packed along for the occasion, and enjoying the company of old friends. Soon enough we’ll arrive in Phoenix and change planes for the trip to LAX; two car rides later and we’ll find ourselves in the High Desert, northeast of Los Angeles, and whatever additional trials await us…