Louisville and Ashland, KY---April 2010
Waiting a Denver International Airport, Gate 27 for our flight to Cincinnati
April 13, 2010
This is probably the first blog I have actually written onboard an airplane. I have owned a laptop for about seven years, but either I wasn’t writing then, or I didn’t have enough batter power. Usually I just read. I try to sleep, but that’s not something I can normally do. I’m not afraid to fly or anything, it’s just that unless it’s on my nice comfortable couch at home, in front of the TV, I can’t sleep sitting up. At least I can make some productive use of this time.
This trip has a different “feel” to it. Even though I have had plenty of time to prepare, I feel a little rushed. I have a couple of projects going on at home, and those seem to take priority over the grunt work of planning for this trip. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly winging this. All reservations are made. My book is done with all of the normal information about flights, rental car, hotel, itinerary, destinations, and attractions. I have my GPS programmed with all of the places we will be visiting or staying. I have Rand McNally Maps, and Mapquest or Google Maps directions as well. I just don’t have that feeling of confidence that I have checked and double checked to make sure I didn’t miss a detail.
Speaking of details, I haven’t even mentioned where we are going or what we will be doing. The highlight of the trip comes on Saturday, when we (Margo and I) will watch “Thunder over Louisville”. For the uninformed, and judging by the reaction of everyone I have mentioned this to, that seems to include the entire civilized world outside of Louisville, KY. “Thunder over Louisville” is a festival, featuring a huge air show, and possibly the largest annual fireworks display in America. The festival is technically the opening ceremonies for the Kentucky Derby, which runs the first Saturday in May. So Louisville will be partying for the next two weeks. Margo and I heard about this when we saw a documentary on the people who put on the fireworks show, on the Discovery Channel. I suppose if we had never seen that, we wouldn’t know about it either, so I’m not being judgmental. I suppose I was expecting that I couldn’t be the first in my circle of friends, relatives, and acquaintances to have heard of it.
Seeing Thunder has been on my Bucket List for something like nine years. But, this year the day of the event fell on our wedding anniversary. It seemed like the perfect way to celebrate our 23rd mark of our nuptials. We will also be spending some time with My Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom in Ashland, KY. Today is Wednesday, and Thunder isn’t until Saturday. After traveling all day from Brighton, CO, to Dallas, TX, changing planes after a two hour layover, flying to Cincinnati, (whose airport is really in Kentucky), we will be driving 3 hours to Ashland, KY. Aunt Ellen is 83 and is the last of my Aunts or Uncles on my Dad’s side. This will almost certainly be the last chance I get to see her. She is doing OK, but they, my Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom, are tab bit evasive on their overall health. We will likely spend a few hours tonight visiting with them, and most of the day on Thursday. Friday morning will probably be more visiting, and then we will make our way to Louisville.
Louisville is about a three hour drive from Ashland (I think), but we have a detour to make. I want to drive down to Carter County, KY and pay my respects to those buried in the family cemeteries down there. That should be an adventure, as I have never driven there without local direction. But in the 21st century we have Global Positioning Systems, Google Maps, and even Bing Bird’s Eye View. So with all of the technological help, plus some advice from Uncle Tom, I think we can pull it off, and not get lost in the Kentucky backwoods.
That should take care of most of Friday. Saturday is spoken for. Sunday we will tour around southern Indiana, making my 35th US state, and getting me 2% closer to my goal of visiting all fifty states. We will be visiting Marengo Cave and Spring Mill State Park.
I am writing a family history book on my wife’s side of the family. Coincidentally, one branch of her family spent a great deal of time in Washington County, IN. That is right where we will be. Margo’s 6th great-grandparents are buried in a local cemetery there. We will be trying to find their graves.
That should fill up our five days. If I’m tired now, I might be dead come Monday when we fly home.
This is probably the first blog I have actually written onboard an airplane. I have owned a laptop for about seven years, but either I wasn’t writing then, or I didn’t have enough batter power. Usually I just read. I try to sleep, but that’s not something I can normally do. I’m not afraid to fly or anything, it’s just that unless it’s on my nice comfortable couch at home, in front of the TV, I can’t sleep sitting up. At least I can make some productive use of this time.
This trip has a different “feel” to it. Even though I have had plenty of time to prepare, I feel a little rushed. I have a couple of projects going on at home, and those seem to take priority over the grunt work of planning for this trip. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly winging this. All reservations are made. My book is done with all of the normal information about flights, rental car, hotel, itinerary, destinations, and attractions. I have my GPS programmed with all of the places we will be visiting or staying. I have Rand McNally Maps, and Mapquest or Google Maps directions as well. I just don’t have that feeling of confidence that I have checked and double checked to make sure I didn’t miss a detail.
Speaking of details, I haven’t even mentioned where we are going or what we will be doing. The highlight of the trip comes on Saturday, when we (Margo and I) will watch “Thunder over Louisville”. For the uninformed, and judging by the reaction of everyone I have mentioned this to, that seems to include the entire civilized world outside of Louisville, KY. “Thunder over Louisville” is a festival, featuring a huge air show, and possibly the largest annual fireworks display in America. The festival is technically the opening ceremonies for the Kentucky Derby, which runs the first Saturday in May. So Louisville will be partying for the next two weeks. Margo and I heard about this when we saw a documentary on the people who put on the fireworks show, on the Discovery Channel. I suppose if we had never seen that, we wouldn’t know about it either, so I’m not being judgmental. I suppose I was expecting that I couldn’t be the first in my circle of friends, relatives, and acquaintances to have heard of it.
Seeing Thunder has been on my Bucket List for something like nine years. But, this year the day of the event fell on our wedding anniversary. It seemed like the perfect way to celebrate our 23rd mark of our nuptials. We will also be spending some time with My Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom in Ashland, KY. Today is Wednesday, and Thunder isn’t until Saturday. After traveling all day from Brighton, CO, to Dallas, TX, changing planes after a two hour layover, flying to Cincinnati, (whose airport is really in Kentucky), we will be driving 3 hours to Ashland, KY. Aunt Ellen is 83 and is the last of my Aunts or Uncles on my Dad’s side. This will almost certainly be the last chance I get to see her. She is doing OK, but they, my Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom, are tab bit evasive on their overall health. We will likely spend a few hours tonight visiting with them, and most of the day on Thursday. Friday morning will probably be more visiting, and then we will make our way to Louisville.
Louisville is about a three hour drive from Ashland (I think), but we have a detour to make. I want to drive down to Carter County, KY and pay my respects to those buried in the family cemeteries down there. That should be an adventure, as I have never driven there without local direction. But in the 21st century we have Global Positioning Systems, Google Maps, and even Bing Bird’s Eye View. So with all of the technological help, plus some advice from Uncle Tom, I think we can pull it off, and not get lost in the Kentucky backwoods.
That should take care of most of Friday. Saturday is spoken for. Sunday we will tour around southern Indiana, making my 35th US state, and getting me 2% closer to my goal of visiting all fifty states. We will be visiting Marengo Cave and Spring Mill State Park.
I am writing a family history book on my wife’s side of the family. Coincidentally, one branch of her family spent a great deal of time in Washington County, IN. That is right where we will be. Margo’s 6th great-grandparents are buried in a local cemetery there. We will be trying to find their graves.
That should fill up our five days. If I’m tired now, I might be dead come Monday when we fly home.
c
Continued……..
Our flight out of Denver into Dallas was uneventful, but quick. Flight time was supposed to be about 2 hours. We got in about 15-20 minutes early. Must have been tail winds. We got in early enough where I checked to see if we could get on a flight earlier than our 12:10 PM departure, about 2 hours from now. There was good news and bad news on that front. The good news is that we could get on the flight that was boarding as we approached the gate. The bad news is that our checked bag would be on our original flight. So we would either wait two hours in Dallas or two hours in Cincinnati. Might as well stick with the original plan.
Our flight out of Denver into Dallas was uneventful, but quick. Flight time was supposed to be about 2 hours. We got in about 15-20 minutes early. Must have been tail winds. We got in early enough where I checked to see if we could get on a flight earlier than our 12:10 PM departure, about 2 hours from now. There was good news and bad news on that front. The good news is that we could get on the flight that was boarding as we approached the gate. The bad news is that our checked bag would be on our original flight. So we would either wait two hours in Dallas or two hours in Cincinnati. Might as well stick with the original plan.
c
My first White Castle, RIchwood, KY (likely my last, too)
Continued…….
Our first day is over and our aforementioned checked bag is becoming a real pain in the ass. Early this morning, as I was taking my shower, it occurred to me that we had stuffed our two carry on bags to the point that we could not bring back any souvenirs. We always bring back something for the kids. So, as Margo had mentioned that she would prefer to take a particular bag that was likely just a smidgeon too big to carry on, I told her that we might as well pay the baggage fee, allay her fears and gain some wiggle room. So she quickly repacked my carry-on into the larger bag, and threw a few things from hers into it as well. Our plan was to try to talk the terminal agent into letting us carry it on. As it turned out it was the length of the wheels, about two inches, from being small enough to carry on. We checked it, and paid the $20 fee. I already covered our decision not to take an earlier flight option, as this bag would not travel with us. Well, as it turned out, it didn’t travel with us anyway. We got to Cincinnati and waited at the baggage carousel. Then we waited some more. Then the carousel stopped turning. The word “Shit” popped into my head. Margo and I walked to the American Airlines Lost Baggage office and started the process. The lady there said she had located it, and it would be routed to Huntington, WV, the closest airport to Ashland, where we were staying. She thought it would be in WV at 8 PM, and delivered to our hotel by 11 PM. We got a receipt and proceeded on our way.
We made a stop about 20 miles outside of the airport at a White Castle hamburger place. For those in the east, this would not even rate a mention in a travel blog. It is like staying we stopped at McDonalds. But, there are no White Castles out in Colorado. I don’t think there are any west of the Mississippi River. But as an honest to goodness slice of Americana (they claim to be the first fast food chain) we decided we had to stop and eat at a White Castle on this trip. Our reaction was a shrug of the shoulders. The food was OK. The bottom hamburger buns was a bit soggy, and that detracted from the experience. I say “buns”, because as every patron of White Castle knows their hamburgers are tiny. It takes three or four to make a meal. But, we have now been there, and done that. So it was back on the road.
Our first day is over and our aforementioned checked bag is becoming a real pain in the ass. Early this morning, as I was taking my shower, it occurred to me that we had stuffed our two carry on bags to the point that we could not bring back any souvenirs. We always bring back something for the kids. So, as Margo had mentioned that she would prefer to take a particular bag that was likely just a smidgeon too big to carry on, I told her that we might as well pay the baggage fee, allay her fears and gain some wiggle room. So she quickly repacked my carry-on into the larger bag, and threw a few things from hers into it as well. Our plan was to try to talk the terminal agent into letting us carry it on. As it turned out it was the length of the wheels, about two inches, from being small enough to carry on. We checked it, and paid the $20 fee. I already covered our decision not to take an earlier flight option, as this bag would not travel with us. Well, as it turned out, it didn’t travel with us anyway. We got to Cincinnati and waited at the baggage carousel. Then we waited some more. Then the carousel stopped turning. The word “Shit” popped into my head. Margo and I walked to the American Airlines Lost Baggage office and started the process. The lady there said she had located it, and it would be routed to Huntington, WV, the closest airport to Ashland, where we were staying. She thought it would be in WV at 8 PM, and delivered to our hotel by 11 PM. We got a receipt and proceeded on our way.
We made a stop about 20 miles outside of the airport at a White Castle hamburger place. For those in the east, this would not even rate a mention in a travel blog. It is like staying we stopped at McDonalds. But, there are no White Castles out in Colorado. I don’t think there are any west of the Mississippi River. But as an honest to goodness slice of Americana (they claim to be the first fast food chain) we decided we had to stop and eat at a White Castle on this trip. Our reaction was a shrug of the shoulders. The food was OK. The bottom hamburger buns was a bit soggy, and that detracted from the experience. I say “buns”, because as every patron of White Castle knows their hamburgers are tiny. It takes three or four to make a meal. But, we have now been there, and done that. So it was back on the road.
c
Our hotel room
Continued………..
It is now 11:21 PM, and not only is our wayward bag not here, but according to American’s online baggage status website, they have not even located it. All of my cloths, plus most of our electronic power cords, our bathroom supplies, and Margo’s PJs are MIA. I’m starting to take a real dislike to American Airlines. If not for two stupid inches, not only would we have our bag, but we would have gotten to our destination two hours earlier. From American’s point of view, this revenue stream of charging for checked baggage would seem to have an expensive downside. I get the definite impression from their people, and our hotel desk agent, that losing luggage is not out of the ordinary. I’m guessing it is costing more than $20 to get our bag to us, assuming it ever shows up.
On the plus side, we did have a nice visit with Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom. Unfortunately, Aunt Ellen has definitely deteriorated since my last visit, four years ago. She fell and hurt her back and she had a stroke. She is still all there, mentally, but she has to use a walker, looks much more frail, and has trouble speaking. I hope we didn’t tire her out too much. We are planning to be back in the morning. Hopefully, I won’t be wearing the same cloths.
It is now 11:21 PM, and not only is our wayward bag not here, but according to American’s online baggage status website, they have not even located it. All of my cloths, plus most of our electronic power cords, our bathroom supplies, and Margo’s PJs are MIA. I’m starting to take a real dislike to American Airlines. If not for two stupid inches, not only would we have our bag, but we would have gotten to our destination two hours earlier. From American’s point of view, this revenue stream of charging for checked baggage would seem to have an expensive downside. I get the definite impression from their people, and our hotel desk agent, that losing luggage is not out of the ordinary. I’m guessing it is costing more than $20 to get our bag to us, assuming it ever shows up.
On the plus side, we did have a nice visit with Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom. Unfortunately, Aunt Ellen has definitely deteriorated since my last visit, four years ago. She fell and hurt her back and she had a stroke. She is still all there, mentally, but she has to use a walker, looks much more frail, and has trouble speaking. I hope we didn’t tire her out too much. We are planning to be back in the morning. Hopefully, I won’t be wearing the same cloths.
Day Two, April 15, 2010
Aunt Ellen
Good news. Not! 11 PM came and went and no phone call from the front desk. Margo went to bed before then, but I waited until about 11:30 before I gave up. I slept pretty well for about 6 ½ hours, and then woke up. My first thought was “I wonder where my bag is?” I was too groggy to add the now obligatory swear words. But, I knew that I couldn’t go back to sleep unless I at least checked the internet to see what my “Bag Status” was. It was quite the revelation to find out that this particular malady occurs often enough that there is not only a portion of the American web site dedicated to this, but there is an internal system that links all of the airlines lost baggage claims together. I found this out when after checking American’s site; I saw that they had found my wayward bag, and not one additional piece of info. Very helpful. Just enough information to dash my fear that my cloths were gone forever, but now I was wondering if I would see them while I was still in Kentucky, or if they would chase me like around the state like a puppy. So after the website, I grabbed the little piece of paper with the luggage vital numbers and proceeded to go downstairs (so not to wake the blissfully ignorant and still slumbering wife) to find a real live American Airlines to talk to. After calling the 1-800 number and pressing zero about a dozen times, I got a very helpful lady, who proceeded to tell me almost nothing. She thought it would going out to Huntington tonight with an arrival of about 9 PM. But, she wasn’t positive. Most of her problem with providing me with information was that American no longer had my bag. American doesn’t actually fly into Huntington. But Delta does, so they gave my bag to Delta. This happens all the time, (not her words, but she did infer it) so she was reasonably sure I would see it tonight, or in the morning Friday. Well, at least I now had a fair shot at seeing my bag before I left Ashland. But, I was tired, so I went back up to my room.
Margo was awake and I filled her in. She was even more thrilled then I was. We quickly decided that we should get something to eat and then go to Wal-Mart for bathroom stuff and some cloths for the day. So that’s what we did. Our hotel, Holiday Inn Express-Ashland, does a pretty good job with their free breakfast. By the time we left for Wal-Mart we were full. Our Wal-Mart shopping went fairly quick. We went back to the hotel and I got a shower. We decided that since there was nothing we could do, we just forget about our bag until tonight. In the mean time we would go back to Aunt Ellen’s and visit with them for awhile.
Margo was awake and I filled her in. She was even more thrilled then I was. We quickly decided that we should get something to eat and then go to Wal-Mart for bathroom stuff and some cloths for the day. So that’s what we did. Our hotel, Holiday Inn Express-Ashland, does a pretty good job with their free breakfast. By the time we left for Wal-Mart we were full. Our Wal-Mart shopping went fairly quick. We went back to the hotel and I got a shower. We decided that since there was nothing we could do, we just forget about our bag until tonight. In the mean time we would go back to Aunt Ellen’s and visit with them for awhile.
C
Uncle Tom
Margo and I had warned Uncle Tom and Aunt Ellen that we would likely not be over bright and early. Having to chase down some cloths and supplies just made it worse. We ended up arriving about 10:30 AM. Aunt Ellen looked a little better, but she was still awful quiet for the next few hours. It was mostly Uncle Tom and I doing the talking. We covered a lot of topics, continuing with catching up on all the various family members, the unseasonably warm weather, and most of the problems in the world. We worked on solving those until around 12:30 AM, when his son, and my cousin, Tommy McKnight arrived. Tommy runs the Home Health Department at a local hospital, and is working long hours. There is much more work, than there are nurses to do it. He was actually out trying to take some of the load off of his people, and decided to both grab some lunch at his folks place, and make sure he at least got to visit with Margo and I for a few minutes. I appreciated that. I’ve always liked Tommy. I first remember meeting him back in 1973, when our family was relocating from Georgia to Colorado. We stopped in Ashland to visit all of Dad’s side of the family. I recall Tommy and I talking baseball. He was a Reds fan, and I followed the Braves. Now we talked about family and jobs. He could only stay for a while and had to get back to work.
Uncle Tom had cooked up a ham, and invited us to have lunch with him and Aunt Ellen. We had a quiet and very good meal of ham, macaroni salad, potato salad, and relish vegetables. Uncle Tom does everything around the house now. He cooks, cleans, does the shopping, and make sure Aunt Ellen gets her medicine. He never goes very far from her side, and if he had to leave the house he gets someone to stay in the house with her. Aunt Ellen confessed that he is very good to her, and that was obvious to us.
Uncle Tom had cooked up a ham, and invited us to have lunch with him and Aunt Ellen. We had a quiet and very good meal of ham, macaroni salad, potato salad, and relish vegetables. Uncle Tom does everything around the house now. He cooks, cleans, does the shopping, and make sure Aunt Ellen gets her medicine. He never goes very far from her side, and if he had to leave the house he gets someone to stay in the house with her. Aunt Ellen confessed that he is very good to her, and that was obvious to us.
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After lunch, Margo and I decided that this was the ideal time to run to Rose Hill Cemetery to visit the graves of a couple of my aunts, and my grandmother. I
had last seen two of those graves 16 years ago. The third, my Aunt Ann, is recent. She died in 2007, the year after I last visited. We got some directions from Uncle Tom about how to find the graves once we got to the cemetery, but I misunderstood and we were looking in the wrong spot. We didn’t waste much time. I had planned to go to office anyway to get the precise location. That tuned out to be both the right call, and an interesting experience. |
The guy that helped us, Gerald Bryant (he gave us his card) pointed us towards the right section for Aunt Vivian and Grandma. These were the two graves I had visited before. Uncle Tom had told me that Aunt Ann was buried very near them. With that in mind, I expected Gerald to give us a nearby location for the grave as well. He ended up sending us to a mausoleum. I wondered about that. If Uncle Tom could drive deep in the hills of Carter County, KY, on roads just wide enough for two small cars to pass, through dirt roads, and up to the top of hills to find the grave of my grandfather, he ought to know where in the very town he lived his favorite sister-in-law was buried.
It took us about five minutes to drive to the section and find my grandmother’s grave. Right beside it was Aunt Vivian. And right below it was my Aunt Ann. Uncle Tom was right and the cemetery records were wrong. We drove around to the other side of the cemetery to check the mausoleum, that the cemetery records had Aunt Ann in, to see if she had two markers. She didn’t. The vault that wa supposed to contain her remains was unmarked. But, I was definitely going back to the office to point out this discrepancy to Gerald.
We arrived and he looked puzzled as we approached. We had been gone only about 10 minutes, surely not enough time to have given up looking for the graves already. Why else would we be coming back? Well, I told him why else. He was plenty curious as to why the
records showed one thing and the markers another. He came back with a file and told us that she had originally been placed in the
mausoleum, and then moved to the marked grave. He confessed that someone had been buried in those ground graves when she had died. He didn’t have any other details, and after a sales pitch for pre-arranging our own funerals (back home), we were on our way.
It took us about five minutes to drive to the section and find my grandmother’s grave. Right beside it was Aunt Vivian. And right below it was my Aunt Ann. Uncle Tom was right and the cemetery records were wrong. We drove around to the other side of the cemetery to check the mausoleum, that the cemetery records had Aunt Ann in, to see if she had two markers. She didn’t. The vault that wa supposed to contain her remains was unmarked. But, I was definitely going back to the office to point out this discrepancy to Gerald.
We arrived and he looked puzzled as we approached. We had been gone only about 10 minutes, surely not enough time to have given up looking for the graves already. Why else would we be coming back? Well, I told him why else. He was plenty curious as to why the
records showed one thing and the markers another. He came back with a file and told us that she had originally been placed in the
mausoleum, and then moved to the marked grave. He confessed that someone had been buried in those ground graves when she had died. He didn’t have any other details, and after a sales pitch for pre-arranging our own funerals (back home), we were on our way.
c
Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom
When we got back to Uncle Tom’s and he told us that Uncle Bill had just left. Bill is Aunt Ann’s widower. I always enjoy talking with him as well. He is articulate and very smart. Plus, just like Uncle Tom, he’s been around a few years and has plenty of stories and life experiences to relate. Tom got on the phone and called him, and Bill came back in just a few minutes. We spent the next hour or so catching up on his side of the family. He is very proud of his grandson, Robbie. Robbie is going to graduate from college before his 21st birthday, and is talking about going to law school. Bill had a little bit more to tell us about why Aunt Ann was in the mausoleum. Bill and Ann had bought the plot, where she now rests, and which is right by her mother and sister. However, when Ann passed and it was time for her burial, it was quickly noticed that the cemetery had buried someone else in their plot! I got the impression that this happens a bit more often than a person would think. Uncle Bill said this wouldn’t have been a big deal to him, but it was very important to Aunt Ann to be buried by her mother. So, until the interloper could be exhumed and relocated, Aunt Ann was put in this mausoleum. It took them a year to get all of this straightened out. We visited for about an hour, but all too quick Bill had to leave.
We visited with Uncle Tom and Aunt Ellen for a couple of more hours, and then Ginger and Elizabeth pulled up in the drive way. Ginger is Tommy’s wife and Elizabeth is their daughter. She brought a cake, which moved her right to the top of my list of favorite people in Kentucky. Margo got an automated phone call from American Airlines alerting us that our bag was to be in Huntington, WV at 8 PM, and would be delivered inside of 6 hours after that. I was skeptical, but hopeful. We both put it out our minds, as opposed to having it ruin the rest of our evening.
Tommy showed up shortly after this. Glancing at the clock it was just past 7 PM, meaning he had put in better than 11 hours again. He must be dedicated or crazy. Sounds like an even money bet. So we had cake and coffee. Ginger made me up a cup of some flavored coffee based drink that did not taste like coffee, so I was happy.
We visited with everyone until about 9 PM. Then I figured that was long enough. I think we tired Aunt Ellen out pretty well yesterday, and today she was starting to nod off. We said our good byes and promised to be back in the morning before we left town. Exactly when, would depend on when our damn bag showed up. Hopefully, it would be waiting for us at the hotel, as Huntington is only 20 minutes away.
Once we got into the car, we both decided we were hungry. Yesterday, we had eaten a late dinner at the Bob Evans near our hotel. That sounded good to both of us again, so off we went. We asked to be seated in the section of the waiter who had served us yesterday, Andre. He did a good job, and we had come in at 9:35, just 25 minutes before they quit serving for the day. We were the only ones in the place, and we felt a little funny about it. Today we were a little earlier.
We had a pleasant dinner and went back to the hotel with high hopes. They were dashed as soon as we got to the front desk. We asked the lady running it call us no matter what time the bag showed up, even 2 AM, the supposed latest it would be delivered. We went to our room, and I blogged for a little while and then we both went to bed. Hopefully, the phone would ring soon!
We visited with Uncle Tom and Aunt Ellen for a couple of more hours, and then Ginger and Elizabeth pulled up in the drive way. Ginger is Tommy’s wife and Elizabeth is their daughter. She brought a cake, which moved her right to the top of my list of favorite people in Kentucky. Margo got an automated phone call from American Airlines alerting us that our bag was to be in Huntington, WV at 8 PM, and would be delivered inside of 6 hours after that. I was skeptical, but hopeful. We both put it out our minds, as opposed to having it ruin the rest of our evening.
Tommy showed up shortly after this. Glancing at the clock it was just past 7 PM, meaning he had put in better than 11 hours again. He must be dedicated or crazy. Sounds like an even money bet. So we had cake and coffee. Ginger made me up a cup of some flavored coffee based drink that did not taste like coffee, so I was happy.
We visited with everyone until about 9 PM. Then I figured that was long enough. I think we tired Aunt Ellen out pretty well yesterday, and today she was starting to nod off. We said our good byes and promised to be back in the morning before we left town. Exactly when, would depend on when our damn bag showed up. Hopefully, it would be waiting for us at the hotel, as Huntington is only 20 minutes away.
Once we got into the car, we both decided we were hungry. Yesterday, we had eaten a late dinner at the Bob Evans near our hotel. That sounded good to both of us again, so off we went. We asked to be seated in the section of the waiter who had served us yesterday, Andre. He did a good job, and we had come in at 9:35, just 25 minutes before they quit serving for the day. We were the only ones in the place, and we felt a little funny about it. Today we were a little earlier.
We had a pleasant dinner and went back to the hotel with high hopes. They were dashed as soon as we got to the front desk. We asked the lady running it call us no matter what time the bag showed up, even 2 AM, the supposed latest it would be delivered. We went to our room, and I blogged for a little while and then we both went to bed. Hopefully, the phone would ring soon!
Day Three-----April 16, 2010
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It was the middle of the night and a voice said, with an edge to it,
“Bill!”. My eyes opened and I quickly determined from Margo’s snoring and a blurry look around the room, the voice came from inside my head. “Look at the clock” the voice continued. With no regard for why my subconscious decided to talk to my conscience, I glanced at the clock. It said 2:15 AM. “Just pointing out that I knew those stupid @%*#?$ mother%^&( sons (&$%# wouldn’t have the bag here tonight.” |
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Day Three April 16, 2010
The missing bag
My subconscious has quite the potty mouth. I was too tired to comment. I did manage to think
“You could have waited until morning to point this out”
“Don’t worry” my id responded “I’ll let you get back to sleep. You can appease me by thinking that the front desk has it. But, we both know you are going to be on the phone again.”. I was also sure he was right, but I did get right back to sleep.
About four hours later I woke up, put on yesterdays cloths, and went down to the front desk. It took about 30 seconds to confirm that our bag was still lost. I went back to room and proceeded to get claim and phone numbers so I could call American Airlines, to find out what the hell happened now.
I reached a polite, but nearly useless Lost Baggage Representative. After first raising my blood pressure by telling me my bag was still in Cincinnati, she checked something else and told me it should be in Huntington. But she could not confirm it because no one was answering the phone in Huntington. She had put me on hold to check. I asked for the contact information so I could call them. She wouldn’t give it to me. That was against the rules. I guess you have to have special training to make a phone call. That was that, and that was it. All she would do from that point was send them a message of some sort.
Frustrated only begins to describe what I was feeling. I went upstairs to take my blood pressure medicine and get online to find a few phone numbers. If my bag was in Huntington, I was going to talk to someone who could verify that. Margo was up when I got back, and I filled her in and told her what I planned to do. I got the main number for Tri-State Airport in Huntington, and someone picked up on the third ring. It was still five minutes shy of 8 AM. The lady who answered had at her finger tips the number for the Delta counter there, and gave it to me with out hesitation or reservation. A gentleman picked up that ringing Delta line on the second ring. I was now wondering how hard Ms. American had tried to call West Virginia. I explained what I was after, and the fact that I would be checking out in three hours. He apologized profusely and said that they would forward it to Louisville, if that would help. And then he added, “It’s the green one, right?”
“You could have waited until morning to point this out”
“Don’t worry” my id responded “I’ll let you get back to sleep. You can appease me by thinking that the front desk has it. But, we both know you are going to be on the phone again.”. I was also sure he was right, but I did get right back to sleep.
About four hours later I woke up, put on yesterdays cloths, and went down to the front desk. It took about 30 seconds to confirm that our bag was still lost. I went back to room and proceeded to get claim and phone numbers so I could call American Airlines, to find out what the hell happened now.
I reached a polite, but nearly useless Lost Baggage Representative. After first raising my blood pressure by telling me my bag was still in Cincinnati, she checked something else and told me it should be in Huntington. But she could not confirm it because no one was answering the phone in Huntington. She had put me on hold to check. I asked for the contact information so I could call them. She wouldn’t give it to me. That was against the rules. I guess you have to have special training to make a phone call. That was that, and that was it. All she would do from that point was send them a message of some sort.
Frustrated only begins to describe what I was feeling. I went upstairs to take my blood pressure medicine and get online to find a few phone numbers. If my bag was in Huntington, I was going to talk to someone who could verify that. Margo was up when I got back, and I filled her in and told her what I planned to do. I got the main number for Tri-State Airport in Huntington, and someone picked up on the third ring. It was still five minutes shy of 8 AM. The lady who answered had at her finger tips the number for the Delta counter there, and gave it to me with out hesitation or reservation. A gentleman picked up that ringing Delta line on the second ring. I was now wondering how hard Ms. American had tried to call West Virginia. I explained what I was after, and the fact that I would be checking out in three hours. He apologized profusely and said that they would forward it to Louisville, if that would help. And then he added, “It’s the green one, right?”
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Two lane Carter County road
My heart leapt when he said that! This man has seen my bag! I said “No! No! I’ll pick it up!” He started apologizing for not getting it delivered. (Note to American Airlines: This DELTA rep was a lot sorrier that he wasn’t cleaning up your mess, than any of your people were that you had created it. We now return to regularly scheduled program). I stopped him and told him not only was this not a Delta issue, but I was thrilled to be able to pick it up. Huntington is only about 15-20 minutes away. He gave me clear and precise directions, and told me he would make sure it was not accidently sent out. I talked to Margo, and we noticed that we had nearly two and half hours until we check out. That was enough time, to go there and back, get something to eat, and shower, all before check out. So that is exactly what we did. Everything went like clockwork. All it took was for the bag to be out of American Airline’s hands and everything fell into place. By 11 AM we were fed, showered, checked out, and on our way to Aunt Ellen’s.
We visited with Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom for about an hour and a half, and then we said our good byes. Aunt Ellen mentioned that this was the probably the last time we would see each other. I denied it, but she is almost certainly right. I’d like to come back soon, but things would have to work out precisely right, just as this trip did.
Our plan now was to head to Carter County and visit the Easterling and Kretzer Cemeteries. I had GPS coordinates for both, and my own written directions, from a prior visit, for the Kretzer Cemetery. We made our way to Stinson, where the Easterlings had lived, and that the Easterling Family cemetery resides. We turned up the gravel mountain lane that I thought the Easterling belonged to, but it seemed to lead to a house, with a No Trespassing sign. So we turned around. We checked a couple of other likely spots and came up empty. This one will require specific directions, or at least someone who can use a GPS device.
We had better luck with the Kretzer Cemetery. My directions were almost perfect. We did miss a turnoff, but even when we passed it, I questioned if that was the right spot. So after only about an extra ten minutes wasted we were at the correct place. But, if we had not known what we were looking for we never would have made the attempt. The entrance was muddy, and did not look very inviting. So, rather than drive through it, Margo and I parked on the side and walked in.
We had company almost immediately. There was a small brown dog who was interested in what these strangers were doing. So he walked with us most of the way. The main area of the old farm was only about 100-150 yards in from the road. We came to the clearing that used to be the Kretzer Farm. Now it is covered in native grasses and is used for family gatherings. There is a Bar B Q pit made with stones that were likely from the farm house chimney. There are a couple of small buildings, one an outhouse, and the other some type of shed. Neither are in good condition. We walked to the far end of the field/meadow, and on the left side was a mostly hidden path on a hill. 15 years ago, we had driven to this point. But, we didn’t have the vehicle to attempt it. So we walked up the hill. It was short, but steep. We were up to the summit in less than five minutes. It wasn’t overgrown, but you could tell that it had not had much attention, recently. There were a couple of headstones that indicate there were burials in 2008. That may have been the last time the weeds were knocked down. But, overall it looked pretty good. I got pictures of all of the headstones, so I could put them online. After that, Margo and I made the walk down, and decided it was time to head to Louisville.
We visited with Aunt Ellen and Uncle Tom for about an hour and a half, and then we said our good byes. Aunt Ellen mentioned that this was the probably the last time we would see each other. I denied it, but she is almost certainly right. I’d like to come back soon, but things would have to work out precisely right, just as this trip did.
Our plan now was to head to Carter County and visit the Easterling and Kretzer Cemeteries. I had GPS coordinates for both, and my own written directions, from a prior visit, for the Kretzer Cemetery. We made our way to Stinson, where the Easterlings had lived, and that the Easterling Family cemetery resides. We turned up the gravel mountain lane that I thought the Easterling belonged to, but it seemed to lead to a house, with a No Trespassing sign. So we turned around. We checked a couple of other likely spots and came up empty. This one will require specific directions, or at least someone who can use a GPS device.
We had better luck with the Kretzer Cemetery. My directions were almost perfect. We did miss a turnoff, but even when we passed it, I questioned if that was the right spot. So after only about an extra ten minutes wasted we were at the correct place. But, if we had not known what we were looking for we never would have made the attempt. The entrance was muddy, and did not look very inviting. So, rather than drive through it, Margo and I parked on the side and walked in.
We had company almost immediately. There was a small brown dog who was interested in what these strangers were doing. So he walked with us most of the way. The main area of the old farm was only about 100-150 yards in from the road. We came to the clearing that used to be the Kretzer Farm. Now it is covered in native grasses and is used for family gatherings. There is a Bar B Q pit made with stones that were likely from the farm house chimney. There are a couple of small buildings, one an outhouse, and the other some type of shed. Neither are in good condition. We walked to the far end of the field/meadow, and on the left side was a mostly hidden path on a hill. 15 years ago, we had driven to this point. But, we didn’t have the vehicle to attempt it. So we walked up the hill. It was short, but steep. We were up to the summit in less than five minutes. It wasn’t overgrown, but you could tell that it had not had much attention, recently. There were a couple of headstones that indicate there were burials in 2008. That may have been the last time the weeds were knocked down. But, overall it looked pretty good. I got pictures of all of the headstones, so I could put them online. After that, Margo and I made the walk down, and decided it was time to head to Louisville.
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Hooters Dixie Highway in Louisville
The drive from Carter County was fairly uneventful. Carter County is a very rural area, so most of the roads, while paved, were very narrow. Some of them were also steep, to the point where you questioned if there was a road on the other side. But once we got onto a bigger road things settled into normal travel.
About ten miles outside of Louisville it started to rain. The wind had been blowing for the last two hours and it was pushing the car all over the road. Margo, who does most of the driving complained about how fatiguing it was. We got to our hotel and checked in. It was still raining, but had slowed down. Our plans were to eat dinner at Hooters, a vacation tradition, and then make sure we knew where to board the bus. Our dinner at Hooters was not as much fun, as usual. They were very busy and the manager got after me for taking flash pictures. I probably shouldn’t have been, and he was nice about it, but it is the first time this had ever been an issue.
The bus stop thing ended much better. I had a devil of a time, while planning this, trying to figure out where we should be boarding our bus. I assumed that Louisville operated similarly to other cities we had traveled through. There would be a handful of stops per route, and the bus would stop at each one. In Louisville, there is a bus stop on every corner of the major thoroughfares. The city claims that there are over 7,000 bustops in the city. If you are standing under one, the bus driver stops. There was one a block away from our hotel going into downtown, and one across the street for the trip back. This meant we didn’t have to drive two miles down to the Park n Ride. We would just leave our car at the hotel, and walk two minutes to the bus stop. Now if the weather would cooperate (rain had stopped, but tomorrow was supposed to windy), it would be a great day.
About ten miles outside of Louisville it started to rain. The wind had been blowing for the last two hours and it was pushing the car all over the road. Margo, who does most of the driving complained about how fatiguing it was. We got to our hotel and checked in. It was still raining, but had slowed down. Our plans were to eat dinner at Hooters, a vacation tradition, and then make sure we knew where to board the bus. Our dinner at Hooters was not as much fun, as usual. They were very busy and the manager got after me for taking flash pictures. I probably shouldn’t have been, and he was nice about it, but it is the first time this had ever been an issue.
The bus stop thing ended much better. I had a devil of a time, while planning this, trying to figure out where we should be boarding our bus. I assumed that Louisville operated similarly to other cities we had traveled through. There would be a handful of stops per route, and the bus would stop at each one. In Louisville, there is a bus stop on every corner of the major thoroughfares. The city claims that there are over 7,000 bustops in the city. If you are standing under one, the bus driver stops. There was one a block away from our hotel going into downtown, and one across the street for the trip back. This meant we didn’t have to drive two miles down to the Park n Ride. We would just leave our car at the hotel, and walk two minutes to the bus stop. Now if the weather would cooperate (rain had stopped, but tomorrow was supposed to windy), it would be a great day.
April 17, 2010--Day Four and our 23rd Wedding Anniversay
Belle of Louisville
Today was to be the highlight of our trip. This item is on my Bucket List, and by all accounts the air show and especially the fireworks show would be the among the best we would ever see. I had fairly low expectations for the air show. I already had a good idea of what we would see, from the Thunder website. Still it would be something to see so many military aircraft doing fly bys. The fireworks show, on the other hand, were supposed to be the among the best in the nation. I had watched a documentary on this particular show, so I was certainly willing to believe it was going to be mind blowing, but you still had to wonder.
I had bought tickets to watch the festivities on the Belle of Louisville, a steamship that ordinarily would be taking passengers up and down the Ohio River. Today it would be moored and not moving, except for a tiny bit of swaying from the wind. Speaking of which, the weatherguessers had been dead on with their forecast. We got the wind. This was going to be annoying at first and cold later on. There were several advantages to watching the show from the Belle. First we should have a pretty good seat. We were only a few hundred yards from the 2nd Street Bridge, which was the middle of the display. We would have a chair to sit on. We would have shelter if it got too hot, (not likely) or too cold (almost a certainty). We would have clean and readily available restrooms. Not a trivial thing, when the expected crowd tops ½ million. And we would have a catered meal come dinner time. The disadvantage? $140 per person. I’m still not sure if the scales came out equal.
The bus ride was about what I expected. Except we were almost the only white people on board. There was another white person, and an obvious regular (she had a bus pass), and she talked non stop. No one hassled us, but it was a whole different cultural experience. That was particularly evident when about 2/3rd through the trip, a black, female teen was getting off. She was also putting her cell phone through it’s paces (horse talk, in honor of Louisville), when as she was passing us she tells her conversational partner “ Don’t tell me No, Nigger”. Apparently that word isn’t as profane as I was lead to believe. Although another forty-something black lady, did make a tsking sound under her breath, showing what she thought of the careless use of that word.
The whole trip took about 40 minutes, and we were dropped off about three blocks from the waterfront. We decided to go straight to the Belle and pick up our tickets. As we had been warned, there were already about 15 people in line, waiting to be the first to choose their seats. All were first come, first serve, and you had to leave someone in your party to save any seat. It was only about 11:30, and boarding wouldn’t start until 2:30. Standing in line for 3 hours did not seem to be the best use of our time, and we were getting hungry. On the way in we had caught a whiff of some barbeque, and it had ours and a few of the locals surrounding us commenting on how good it smelled. The decision to go looking for food was pretty easy.
I had bought tickets to watch the festivities on the Belle of Louisville, a steamship that ordinarily would be taking passengers up and down the Ohio River. Today it would be moored and not moving, except for a tiny bit of swaying from the wind. Speaking of which, the weatherguessers had been dead on with their forecast. We got the wind. This was going to be annoying at first and cold later on. There were several advantages to watching the show from the Belle. First we should have a pretty good seat. We were only a few hundred yards from the 2nd Street Bridge, which was the middle of the display. We would have a chair to sit on. We would have shelter if it got too hot, (not likely) or too cold (almost a certainty). We would have clean and readily available restrooms. Not a trivial thing, when the expected crowd tops ½ million. And we would have a catered meal come dinner time. The disadvantage? $140 per person. I’m still not sure if the scales came out equal.
The bus ride was about what I expected. Except we were almost the only white people on board. There was another white person, and an obvious regular (she had a bus pass), and she talked non stop. No one hassled us, but it was a whole different cultural experience. That was particularly evident when about 2/3rd through the trip, a black, female teen was getting off. She was also putting her cell phone through it’s paces (horse talk, in honor of Louisville), when as she was passing us she tells her conversational partner “ Don’t tell me No, Nigger”. Apparently that word isn’t as profane as I was lead to believe. Although another forty-something black lady, did make a tsking sound under her breath, showing what she thought of the careless use of that word.
The whole trip took about 40 minutes, and we were dropped off about three blocks from the waterfront. We decided to go straight to the Belle and pick up our tickets. As we had been warned, there were already about 15 people in line, waiting to be the first to choose their seats. All were first come, first serve, and you had to leave someone in your party to save any seat. It was only about 11:30, and boarding wouldn’t start until 2:30. Standing in line for 3 hours did not seem to be the best use of our time, and we were getting hungry. On the way in we had caught a whiff of some barbeque, and it had ours and a few of the locals surrounding us commenting on how good it smelled. The decision to go looking for food was pretty easy.
Down by the River. 1000s and 1000s of people
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There was a section of food booths, much like any county fair, set up in a designated area called the Chow Wagon. To get into this area, and a few others, you had to have a Pegasus Pin. This is a special, commemorative pin that is sold every year, to help raise money, to fund this event each year. I liked that idea, as opposed to taxes, even though I don’t live here, so I made a point of buying the pin, regardless. As it turned out my philosophical reason for buying the pin was the best reason. We had to walk past at least a dozen other food vendors selling the same fare and more, as at the Chow Wagon.
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These did not require a pin to patronize. Another part about the Chow Wagon that I didn’t care for was the use of coupons instead of cash. I am assuming that this was also done to raise additional revenue. As unused coupons ($1 each) were non-refundable. It was kind of annoying, but if it was for a good cause.
It took us forever to decide on what we wanted to eat. I got 35 coupons, and we ended up spending 31 to buy two sandwiches, two drinks, and an order of cold potato crisps. I bought two more coupons and we got a really good apple dumpling ala mode for dessert.
It was now nearly 2 PM and we had only just finished eating. That was because we had stopped by a common area, where the Air Force had set up a couple of helicopters for display. One was unmarked, so the type was a mystery to me. But that didn’t matter, as you could climb in to either the pilot, co-pilot, or passenger areas and have your picture taken, with your own camera, at no charge. So I had to do that. I felt like a big kid. The other helicopter needed no placard to explain what it was, even though they had one. This one was an Apache. The Apache is the baddest helicopter in the air. The only thing with rotary wings that can touch it is the Comanche. But, the Comanche program was killed (Thanks, Obama) and it will likely never see front line service. Still, it was very cool to see one in person.
This had definitely whetted my appetite for the air show. So as we were now fed and watered (more horse talk), it was time to go wait in line. It was about 2 PM when we got back to the Belle. The line had quadrupled in size, and we seriously wondered if we would get a seat on the river side of the boat. But, as we were to find out, they didn’t sell enough tickets (on purpose) to require people to sit on that side. We decided to kill the last half hour by splitting up. I would wander for about 15 minutes, taking pictures and seeing the parts of the waterfront I had missed. Margo would wait in line. Then we would switch. She wanted to scout vendors to buy souvenirs for the kids. This worked out well, and soon it was time to board.
It took us forever to decide on what we wanted to eat. I got 35 coupons, and we ended up spending 31 to buy two sandwiches, two drinks, and an order of cold potato crisps. I bought two more coupons and we got a really good apple dumpling ala mode for dessert.
It was now nearly 2 PM and we had only just finished eating. That was because we had stopped by a common area, where the Air Force had set up a couple of helicopters for display. One was unmarked, so the type was a mystery to me. But that didn’t matter, as you could climb in to either the pilot, co-pilot, or passenger areas and have your picture taken, with your own camera, at no charge. So I had to do that. I felt like a big kid. The other helicopter needed no placard to explain what it was, even though they had one. This one was an Apache. The Apache is the baddest helicopter in the air. The only thing with rotary wings that can touch it is the Comanche. But, the Comanche program was killed (Thanks, Obama) and it will likely never see front line service. Still, it was very cool to see one in person.
This had definitely whetted my appetite for the air show. So as we were now fed and watered (more horse talk), it was time to go wait in line. It was about 2 PM when we got back to the Belle. The line had quadrupled in size, and we seriously wondered if we would get a seat on the river side of the boat. But, as we were to find out, they didn’t sell enough tickets (on purpose) to require people to sit on that side. We decided to kill the last half hour by splitting up. I would wander for about 15 minutes, taking pictures and seeing the parts of the waterfront I had missed. Margo would wait in line. Then we would switch. She wanted to scout vendors to buy souvenirs for the kids. This worked out well, and soon it was time to board.
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Sqaudron of F-15 Eagles. The baddest thing in the air!
We got good seats, right above where the person first in line had chosen. If I had been smarter, I would have chosen a seat inside, by the window, instead of outside by the rail. Later, during the show Margo got plenty cold, and the female half of the couple that sat beside us, complained about the cold and wind, ceaselessly. Next time, she will bring something larger than a cloth jacket, won’t wear capris and sandals, and will wear long sleeves.
The air show started with a parachute team. With all of the wind I was wondering if they would end up on dry land, which was not their target. They were aiming for the middle of the Ohio River. I need not have concerned myself with it. The team, KYANG STS, had no trouble whatsoever, and the Coast Guard dutifully plucked them out of the water, like they do hundreds of times each year.
The Thunder Air Show is definitely worth seeing. I won’t try to go through a blow by blow, as there were at least two dozen different aircraft of performances. But, all branches of the service were represented. There were short performances featuring the F-15 Eagle, the F-16 Falcon, and The F-18 Hornet. Watching those planes point their noses straight up and climb is something. Their full power afterburner enhanced turns are as loud as they are impressive. There were also things that I have never seen at an air show before. One was a Heritage Fly By. This was a three plane formation, with a World War II vintage, P-51 Mustang, on either side were the modern F-15 Eagle, and the F-16 Falcon. The size difference between the Eagle and the Mustang was startling... This was the one picture that I regretted not getting. I got a blur, because I moved. I was able to get shots of most everything else, but I missed this one.
Also on the list of things I had never scene before was a night performance. The flight team, Lima Lima, out of Chicago, had their five planes lit up and flew in a variety of formations. It was very cool. There was also a single plane night performance, by a guy whose name escapes me. He was a one man fireworks show himself, with the various smoke and sparks his aircraft would throw off, as he did various aerial maneuvers. The last unique thing we saw was the American Flag show. I am not positive how they did it, but some aircraft was towing an American Flag, while spot lights from an undetermined spot would illuminate just the flag. It looked like an American Flag moving across the sky. That part of the show was actually two flags. This was pretty special, and it signaled the end of the air show, and the beginning of the fireworks.
The air show started with a parachute team. With all of the wind I was wondering if they would end up on dry land, which was not their target. They were aiming for the middle of the Ohio River. I need not have concerned myself with it. The team, KYANG STS, had no trouble whatsoever, and the Coast Guard dutifully plucked them out of the water, like they do hundreds of times each year.
The Thunder Air Show is definitely worth seeing. I won’t try to go through a blow by blow, as there were at least two dozen different aircraft of performances. But, all branches of the service were represented. There were short performances featuring the F-15 Eagle, the F-16 Falcon, and The F-18 Hornet. Watching those planes point their noses straight up and climb is something. Their full power afterburner enhanced turns are as loud as they are impressive. There were also things that I have never seen at an air show before. One was a Heritage Fly By. This was a three plane formation, with a World War II vintage, P-51 Mustang, on either side were the modern F-15 Eagle, and the F-16 Falcon. The size difference between the Eagle and the Mustang was startling... This was the one picture that I regretted not getting. I got a blur, because I moved. I was able to get shots of most everything else, but I missed this one.
Also on the list of things I had never scene before was a night performance. The flight team, Lima Lima, out of Chicago, had their five planes lit up and flew in a variety of formations. It was very cool. There was also a single plane night performance, by a guy whose name escapes me. He was a one man fireworks show himself, with the various smoke and sparks his aircraft would throw off, as he did various aerial maneuvers. The last unique thing we saw was the American Flag show. I am not positive how they did it, but some aircraft was towing an American Flag, while spot lights from an undetermined spot would illuminate just the flag. It looked like an American Flag moving across the sky. That part of the show was actually two flags. This was pretty special, and it signaled the end of the air show, and the beginning of the fireworks.
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Second Street Bridge right before the fireworks started
Minutes before the night air performances, they began to maneuver six large barges into position in the middle of the river, three on each side of the 2nd Street Bridge. The 2nd Street Bridge is about a mile long and connects Kentucky with Indiana. It was closed to traffic many hours ago so it could be readied for it’s part in the show. The barges were going to be platforms for launching the fireworks. By the time the American Flags had made their appearance, tension was running high. But, things were not going as planned. At about 9:28 they started the countdown, but something went wrong and they stopped it. It took about 15 minutes to get the bugs worked out and to restart the count.
The folks that put on the fireworks portion of the show have their own NASA themed countdown that lasts a minute and a half. We could hear it over an FM station that was simocasting music to the show. But unfortunately most on the Belle did not get to hear it. For whatever reason, they had their ship radios turned to the wrong station. But, Margo and I had our iPods, with FM capability. Between the pair we were both able to listen to the special broadcast.
But while the music was good and definitely added to the show, the fireworks were spectacular. Nothing I have ever witnessed can touch them. Hands down, the best I have ever scene. I imagine that some of the millennial fireworks from 10 years ago, and the Chinese Olympic fireworks could compare, I didn’t see any of those in person. These started out like most other show’s finale and just kept building. The barges shot off identical displays from either side of the bridge, from the barges. It was 30 solid minutes of explosions and light. They turned both sides of the bridge into showers of fire, and shot pyrotechnics horizontally from the bridge. This was something to see. They alternated pace from merely quick to rapid fire. Words completely fail to describe them. I will never be able to watch Brighton’s 4th of July fireworks again. They will be too boring to tolerate. I am officially spoiled for life.
We were in no super hurry to leave, but there was nothing else to see, and we did want to get an early start tomorrow. So after a bathroom break, we were off to the waterfront and then walking south to Main St. From there we walked west to 9th Street and quickly found our bus. It was among the first to leave, and there only about 10 people on it. We picked up more on the way. I expected it to take at least an hour to get back to Shively (our stop), on the Dixie Highway, but it didn’t. The city had carved out special lanes for the bus to get out of downtown. So by the time we were out of downtown, only five minutes had elapsed since we started moving. The whole trip back to our hotel took about 35-40 minutes. This was definitely the way to do Thunder. The only better way would be to actually stay downtown. The bus dropped us off almost directly in front of our hotel. It took longer to wait for the crossing light to change than it did to walk to our room. The only downside is that it was over. Tomorrow we would spend in southern Indiana.
The folks that put on the fireworks portion of the show have their own NASA themed countdown that lasts a minute and a half. We could hear it over an FM station that was simocasting music to the show. But unfortunately most on the Belle did not get to hear it. For whatever reason, they had their ship radios turned to the wrong station. But, Margo and I had our iPods, with FM capability. Between the pair we were both able to listen to the special broadcast.
But while the music was good and definitely added to the show, the fireworks were spectacular. Nothing I have ever witnessed can touch them. Hands down, the best I have ever scene. I imagine that some of the millennial fireworks from 10 years ago, and the Chinese Olympic fireworks could compare, I didn’t see any of those in person. These started out like most other show’s finale and just kept building. The barges shot off identical displays from either side of the bridge, from the barges. It was 30 solid minutes of explosions and light. They turned both sides of the bridge into showers of fire, and shot pyrotechnics horizontally from the bridge. This was something to see. They alternated pace from merely quick to rapid fire. Words completely fail to describe them. I will never be able to watch Brighton’s 4th of July fireworks again. They will be too boring to tolerate. I am officially spoiled for life.
We were in no super hurry to leave, but there was nothing else to see, and we did want to get an early start tomorrow. So after a bathroom break, we were off to the waterfront and then walking south to Main St. From there we walked west to 9th Street and quickly found our bus. It was among the first to leave, and there only about 10 people on it. We picked up more on the way. I expected it to take at least an hour to get back to Shively (our stop), on the Dixie Highway, but it didn’t. The city had carved out special lanes for the bus to get out of downtown. So by the time we were out of downtown, only five minutes had elapsed since we started moving. The whole trip back to our hotel took about 35-40 minutes. This was definitely the way to do Thunder. The only better way would be to actually stay downtown. The bus dropped us off almost directly in front of our hotel. It took longer to wait for the crossing light to change than it did to walk to our room. The only downside is that it was over. Tomorrow we would spend in southern Indiana.
Day Five, April 18, 2010
We needed to get a reasonable early start as we had plenty of driving to do, and there were three things we wanted to see today. First we would visit Marengo Caves, then explore a cemetery looking for Margo’s 6th Great-Grandfather, and finally spend a little time in Spring Mill State Park.
We got going about 9 AM. We had taken a quick look at the breakfast selection and decided that we would rather have McDonalds this morning. So after a non nutritious, but definitely delicious breakfast we made our way across the Ohio River and into Indiana. It was only about an hour to Marengo Caves, so got there around 10:30. The next tour was about 15 minutes after we checked in. There are actually two tours; the 40 minute Crystal Palace tour, and the 70 minute Dripstone Trail tour.
These two tours only overlap in one spot, so taking the longer tour wouldn’t allow us to see everything. On the other hand, we were already an hour behind. Margo and I had briefly talked about taking the longer tour, but time was on my mind when we actually had to make the decision. The lady asked which tour we wanted.
I asked Margo and she said “I don’t care.”
Which I took to mean “I don’t care.” So I told the lady we would take the shorter one. The words had barely vibrated the bones of the inner ear when Margo said
“I thought we were taking the long one!”
Oops, my fault. I thought responsibility had been abdicated to me to make the choice. What could I have been thinking?
“We’ll take the Dripstone tour, please.”
We got going about 9 AM. We had taken a quick look at the breakfast selection and decided that we would rather have McDonalds this morning. So after a non nutritious, but definitely delicious breakfast we made our way across the Ohio River and into Indiana. It was only about an hour to Marengo Caves, so got there around 10:30. The next tour was about 15 minutes after we checked in. There are actually two tours; the 40 minute Crystal Palace tour, and the 70 minute Dripstone Trail tour.
These two tours only overlap in one spot, so taking the longer tour wouldn’t allow us to see everything. On the other hand, we were already an hour behind. Margo and I had briefly talked about taking the longer tour, but time was on my mind when we actually had to make the decision. The lady asked which tour we wanted.
I asked Margo and she said “I don’t care.”
Which I took to mean “I don’t care.” So I told the lady we would take the shorter one. The words had barely vibrated the bones of the inner ear when Margo said
“I thought we were taking the long one!”
Oops, my fault. I thought responsibility had been abdicated to me to make the choice. What could I have been thinking?
“We’ll take the Dripstone tour, please.”
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We went outside and waited where the tour was to begin. We didn’t wait long until a 19ish looking blonde girl appeared, wearing a Marengo Caves windbreaker. I immediately deduced that this was our guide (Sherlock Holmes is so jealous). She, Savannah, confirmed this, and proceeded to lead us a few hundred yards to the entrance to the cave.
Savannah took control of the group and was soon telling us about the history of the cave, it’s discovery, how it had been modified to accommodate visitors. |
That part was apparent for a good part of the tour we walked in kind of a wide trench. I was thankful it was there, as it kept us from hitting our heads and having to slither around in the mud. The tour felt like it was over pretty quick, but a check of my watch confirmed it took the 70 minutes it was supposed to. The last part of the tour ended at a place they call Mirror Lake. It’s not really much of a lake. It’s more like a large mud puddle, maybe a foot or so deep. But, the mirror part is exactly right. It perfectly reflected the surroundings and gave you the illusion that you were looking into another cave formation below ground. It was probably the most fascinating part of the tour. That was it. I tipped Savannah and Margo and I were soon on our way.
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Our next stop of the day was Hop Cemetery, near Campbellsburg. Margo’s
GGGGGG-Grandfather is buried there. We were going to try to find his headstone. It was a reasonably quick drive, about 45 minutes. I was more into this than Margo was, but that’s OK. She still enjoys the search. Unfortunately, we probably weren’t successful. We were both all over the small cemetery, and while we found a stone that might be it, I don’t think we found the actual headstone. The stone we found was worn nearly smooth, so you couldn’t read it. I had a picture of the correct stone, that I had found on-line, and the inscription should still have been legible, based on the date the picture was taken. The one we found was made of right kind of stone and had the right general shape. But, it looked wrong. We did find a few others that were probably relatives of Margo. I got pictures of everything. We probably spent about an hour there, and then it was time to move on.
GGGGGG-Grandfather is buried there. We were going to try to find his headstone. It was a reasonably quick drive, about 45 minutes. I was more into this than Margo was, but that’s OK. She still enjoys the search. Unfortunately, we probably weren’t successful. We were both all over the small cemetery, and while we found a stone that might be it, I don’t think we found the actual headstone. The stone we found was worn nearly smooth, so you couldn’t read it. I had a picture of the correct stone, that I had found on-line, and the inscription should still have been legible, based on the date the picture was taken. The one we found was made of right kind of stone and had the right general shape. But, it looked wrong. We did find a few others that were probably relatives of Margo. I got pictures of everything. We probably spent about an hour there, and then it was time to move on.
C
I’ve said it many times. When we go on vacation, it is to see and do things that we can’t see or do at home. Lounging around a pool at the hotel just isn’t in the cards. I usually do a good job of filling our days, when on vacation. Today was no exception. Our final stop in Indiana was going to be Spring Mill State Park. This state park features, but is not limited to, a kind of a recreation of an old early to mid 19th century Indiana town. The focal point of this town is an operational grist mill. A grist mill is a mill that grinds grain into meal or flour.
Margo and I arrived, parked, and immediately headed down the path towards the town. You can’t park too close, and that was fine with me. The walk was very scenic, following the little stream that had powered the mill in days gone by. While it was still pretty early in the spring, things were greening up nicely, and the weather was warm. We got to the town and stopped and looked around the first building that we saw, The Sheeks House. What intrigued me about this house was the plaque that said famous western outlaw; Sam Bass had been raised in it. It did not go into details, and to date I haven’t tried to find any more details.
About the time we got out of the Sheeks house, the nearby grist mill began to wind into action. Some sort of gate or valve had been opened and the water fell over the big wheel, and the wheel began to turn. This particular mill is probably the largest I had ever scene. I estimate that wheel was between 12 and 15 feet in diameter. The water was directed to flow over the top, instead of underneath. I don’t know why, probably dealing with the topography of the land and the depth of the steam. But, once this thing began to turn it was a noisy and impressive site. But, it only lasted about a minute, maybe two and then it was done.
Margo and I arrived, parked, and immediately headed down the path towards the town. You can’t park too close, and that was fine with me. The walk was very scenic, following the little stream that had powered the mill in days gone by. While it was still pretty early in the spring, things were greening up nicely, and the weather was warm. We got to the town and stopped and looked around the first building that we saw, The Sheeks House. What intrigued me about this house was the plaque that said famous western outlaw; Sam Bass had been raised in it. It did not go into details, and to date I haven’t tried to find any more details.
About the time we got out of the Sheeks house, the nearby grist mill began to wind into action. Some sort of gate or valve had been opened and the water fell over the big wheel, and the wheel began to turn. This particular mill is probably the largest I had ever scene. I estimate that wheel was between 12 and 15 feet in diameter. The water was directed to flow over the top, instead of underneath. I don’t know why, probably dealing with the topography of the land and the depth of the steam. But, once this thing began to turn it was a noisy and impressive site. But, it only lasted about a minute, maybe two and then it was done.
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We didn’t get in a big hurry to go over there, figuring that the mill ran on some sort of a schedule or there had been a breakdown. Either way we had time. But, it still did not take long to make our way over. When we got inside the mill, we discovered that it was three stories tall, and was a museum unto itself. After noting that the mill ran but once an hour, we decided to spend that hour wandering the museum. It was remarkably well done, with lots of farm life exhibits and implements of days gone by. But, the mill kept calling. We must have wandered by that part of the museum three or four times before staying and admiring that room.
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In addition to the large wheel, there was a man dressed in period costume. He is the resident miller and keeper of the knowledge. He was keeping himself busy by shoveling corn into a hopper above the millstone and soliciting questions from anyone who walked in. Based on what I had read throughout the museum and my own knowledge of the area and time, he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
Margo and I had to wait for about 15 minutes before it was finally time for him to start the show. He began with a short history of the area, the mill, and the restoration of this mill. It had been used from roughly 1819 to 1893, with it’s heyday before the Civil War. I was getting all of this on video with my new camera. Once the history lesson was over, he asked for questions, got a few, and then proceeded to open up the value to start the water pouring over the wheel. The whole action was louder than I expected, and the millstone really got to moving. I was surprised at how fast it could turn corn into cornmeal. He said it could go through 400 lbs of corn per hour. That was a blessing to the mill owner, but a bane to those of us watching. Because he put on an hourly show, and then had to try to hawk the ground corn, he could only operate the mill for a couple of minutes. Otherwise there would just be too much cornmeal to deal with. Oh, well. It was certainly worth seeing and learning about.
Margo and I had to wait for about 15 minutes before it was finally time for him to start the show. He began with a short history of the area, the mill, and the restoration of this mill. It had been used from roughly 1819 to 1893, with it’s heyday before the Civil War. I was getting all of this on video with my new camera. Once the history lesson was over, he asked for questions, got a few, and then proceeded to open up the value to start the water pouring over the wheel. The whole action was louder than I expected, and the millstone really got to moving. I was surprised at how fast it could turn corn into cornmeal. He said it could go through 400 lbs of corn per hour. That was a blessing to the mill owner, but a bane to those of us watching. Because he put on an hourly show, and then had to try to hawk the ground corn, he could only operate the mill for a couple of minutes. Otherwise there would just be too much cornmeal to deal with. Oh, well. It was certainly worth seeing and learning about.
C
Hooters of Florence, KY
After the mill demonstration we decided we were hungry. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast. At least not officially. We always end up snacking. There was a hotel in the park, and we figured it would have a restaurant. We were right, but it wasn’t serving for another hour. We wanted to be in Cincy before dark, so we decided we would head east and find us someplace to eat. As it turned out, not only were restaurants few and far between, so were gas stations. We were getting pretty low on gas, and we were in the Indiana back country. We were starting to wonder if we might run out of gas in the middle of no where. After about an hour on the back roads, we finally found a gas station, attached to a convenience store. We got a full tank and snacks. We were feeling much better.
I took over the wheel at this point. Margo usually does the driving, but now she wanted a break and to maybe grab a nap. I had my iPod, so I was happy. I drove and Margo did fall asleep. She woke up when we were about ten minutes from our hotel. I had booked us in the Microtel near the Cincinnati airport. The Cincy airport is really in Kentucky, but that is just trivia at this point. We had never stayed at a Microtel before, and I had always wondered about the name. Once we got into our room, their business model became apparent. Small, but nicely appointed rooms, at a reasonable price. The room, while not practically too small, was really too small. If you get my drift. We didn’t like it. No room to spread out. Everything seemed to be on top of each other.
But, we were only there for one night, and we were going out to eat right now. The plan was to eat at Hooters, which was basically just around the corner. This would be my 24th different Hooters. We drove over, parked and immediately noticed a bunch of chalk messages on the walk in front of the entrance. These were directed to the Central Kentucky Jaycees. Always a good sign, when you get a special message. We had a nice meal, and I talked a little bit with our Hooters Girl, Amanda. I was still a little leery about using my camera because of the Dixie Highway experience, but I had a good time. Amanda did a good job, and I walked out of there happier than I did in Louisville.
That was pretty much it for the day. We went back to the hotel, watched TV, got packed and situated and went to bed. Tomorrow was strictly a travel day, so for all intents and purposes, the vacation was over. I was a bit disappointed on this trip. The weather could have been a little better in Louisville, the Dixie Highway Hooters was a bit of a downer, not finding the Easterling Cemetery or Margo’s grandfather’s stone was unfortunate, and seeing that Aunt Ellen was not her prior chippy self, all weighed on me a bit. But, the air show was good and the fireworks were great. It was still nice to visit with everyone, especially Tommy McKnight. I am sure I would like even more if we ever got to spend some time together. While the luggage thing was a hiccup, it makes for a great story. Experiencing the back country roads in Carter County was worth the drive, and I did get to cross Indiana off my list. All and all, there was more good than bad, and we got to make an old lady very happy.
I took over the wheel at this point. Margo usually does the driving, but now she wanted a break and to maybe grab a nap. I had my iPod, so I was happy. I drove and Margo did fall asleep. She woke up when we were about ten minutes from our hotel. I had booked us in the Microtel near the Cincinnati airport. The Cincy airport is really in Kentucky, but that is just trivia at this point. We had never stayed at a Microtel before, and I had always wondered about the name. Once we got into our room, their business model became apparent. Small, but nicely appointed rooms, at a reasonable price. The room, while not practically too small, was really too small. If you get my drift. We didn’t like it. No room to spread out. Everything seemed to be on top of each other.
But, we were only there for one night, and we were going out to eat right now. The plan was to eat at Hooters, which was basically just around the corner. This would be my 24th different Hooters. We drove over, parked and immediately noticed a bunch of chalk messages on the walk in front of the entrance. These were directed to the Central Kentucky Jaycees. Always a good sign, when you get a special message. We had a nice meal, and I talked a little bit with our Hooters Girl, Amanda. I was still a little leery about using my camera because of the Dixie Highway experience, but I had a good time. Amanda did a good job, and I walked out of there happier than I did in Louisville.
That was pretty much it for the day. We went back to the hotel, watched TV, got packed and situated and went to bed. Tomorrow was strictly a travel day, so for all intents and purposes, the vacation was over. I was a bit disappointed on this trip. The weather could have been a little better in Louisville, the Dixie Highway Hooters was a bit of a downer, not finding the Easterling Cemetery or Margo’s grandfather’s stone was unfortunate, and seeing that Aunt Ellen was not her prior chippy self, all weighed on me a bit. But, the air show was good and the fireworks were great. It was still nice to visit with everyone, especially Tommy McKnight. I am sure I would like even more if we ever got to spend some time together. While the luggage thing was a hiccup, it makes for a great story. Experiencing the back country roads in Carter County was worth the drive, and I did get to cross Indiana off my list. All and all, there was more good than bad, and we got to make an old lady very happy.