Part III: N Ft Myers and Home Again, Home Again (2025)

Whew - finally! I'm going to go ahead and publish this as my third and final installment of last year's traumatic flying experience to Florida and back. Mostly because it took me a long time to write and, well, I just wanna publish it! Enjoy...

Next blog is already in the works and it's current. Yahoo! 

Driving to N Ft Myers in Florida in February was good – mostly because I was not the one driving. Melinda was. And she has had a lot of practice in the past few years driving around Florida and back and forth between Florida and Ohio. So I was able to sit back and relax despite the heavy traffic.

 

I had never been to that part of Florida before. The weather was a little nicer than my trip had been thus far, although we did have some rain and thunderstorms. Evidently, Mother Nature did not receive my order for sunshine and temps in the 80s for that week.

 

Melinda and Dan’s new home is beautiful. The nightly sunsets from their back porch (or lanai or whatever it is called in Florida) were just spectacular. And, even though I was told they were there, I never saw evidence of any alligators, which are supposedly lurking about in the ponds around the complex.

 

We drove to Sanibel and Anna Maria Island; two places I’ve certainly heard about but had never been.

 

That day was beautiful and sunny and warm, but the traffic was pretty crazy with lots of tourists having the same idea we had. Still, it’s always lovely to see the sand and surf and I’m always happy around water.

 

Instead of trying to find a place to park and eat in either one of these islands, we drove to the main drag in Ft Myers and sat outside under an umbrella at a cute little coal fired pizza joint. We ate our lunch and people watched. It was a wonderful day and I didn’t even get sunburned. That’s a win-win in Jane’s Domain, for sure.

 

The next day we explored Ft. Myers and stood on the white sandy beach and watched the clouds roll in before a storm.

 

Again, I’d never been to that part of Florida before but the evidence of Hurricane Ian and the devastation it wrought was clear. There were so many buildings that had either been razed or were just beginning to be rebuilt. Trailers with construction trucks and workers were everywhere. I mentioned that the ocean was clearly visible from the road and was told that pre-hurricane, you could hardly see the ocean from the road. 

 

I have to give props to all those Floridians who are determined to rebuild after these hurricanes. One threat of a storm surge and I’d be on my way inland to higher ground. Permanently.

 

We spent those three days talking and eating out and enjoying one another’s company. Melinda and I toured their huge community from the comfort of their golf cart and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

 

And Melinda is always willing to share with me where we are and what interstate we’re on and what bridge we’re crossing. Even though she knows I’m directionally challenged and I don’t know if I’m north, south east or west even if I was holding a compass. And I wouldn’t be able to retrace our steps on any subsequent visit anyway. But it’s kind of her to think I’m that adept at directions.

 

The day arrived for me to leave and Melinda, being the extremely generous and kind friend she is, drove me to the Ft. Myers airport.

 

Since I was using credit card points and was leaving from a different airport than when I arrived, this was on a different carrier. I hoped that I’d have a better homebound experience, but, um…not so much.

 

At least I didn’t oversleep. And I was bright enough to ensure it was an afternoon flight but not so late that it coincided with rush hour traffic. (I do try to be a good guest so that people will not be reticent in asking me back for a repeat visit.)

 

I got through security and arrived at my gate thinking I was in for a smooth trip. There were no weather-related delays on either end – so no lightning-struck planes. Or at least, I hoped.

 

I found myself a seat at the gate and settled in for the wait before boarding. I pulled out my iPad in anticipation of getting in a few chapters of my Book Club book when suddenly I heard,

 

"…CORDova? Or CorDOVa? However you say your name?" she said. "Would you please come to the ticket counter."

 

Sigh. I just shook my head and gathered my things. She didn’t even include my first name. And, besides, how difficult is the name “Cordova” to pronounce anyway?

 

I walked up to the counter and the gate attendant told me that the plane that was supposed to go to Charlotte had been changed to another type of plane and it was configured differently. So she asked me to voluntarily give up my seat. If I didn’t give up my seat, I could be moved involuntarily and it might not be as good a seat. Like a dreaded middle seat, for example.

 

Sigh.

 

I was told I’d get a flight credit, but still needed to move. I asked her if she could get me a seat on the left side of the plane at the window and she said the only one available was 27A. All the way at the back of the plane.

 

Sigh.

 

So I said fine. I told her I needed extra time to get to my seat, so I’d still like to get on the plane first and she said okay. Since arthritis has taken a toll on my knees and I’m going to need knee replacements on both knees in the not-too-distant future, I’ve had to add a cane to my daily ensemble. (Talk about feeling and looking old.)

 

Anyway, she assured me I could still get on the carrier first and handed me a revised ticket with Seat 27A printed on it. She also asked me if I’d like her to book me a wheelchair once we arrived in Charlotte and I said what the heck, sure.

 

Good thing, too, but don’t let me get ahead of myself.

 

When it came time to board, the gate attendant walked over to me and had me board first. I was still a little disgruntled but appreciated their effort on my behalf.

 

I walked toward the back of the plane and was completely flummoxed. Why? Because the last row on the plane was 26. And I was supposed to sit in Row 27!

 

I again shook my head and asked the two flight attendants who were standing in the back of the plane what was happening. I showed them my ticket and explained what had happened at the gate and they told me to sit in 26A and we’d get it sorted out later.

 

And then, of course, the person who was supposed to be sitting in Row 26 came back only to find me in his seat.

 

There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling as other passengers were seated in the wrong seats. Like, for example, those people who had paid extra for exit rows who were not seated in the exit rows.

 

Turns out, it was a different plane – but it had the same configuration as the original plane. And all those changes made by the gate attendants were not necessary.

 

Sigh.

 

After all the passengers were finally seated, I hear the flight attendant call, “Cordova” up to the front of the plane. OMG. I had to gather my crap once again and stumble all the way to the front of the plane. I was not in my original seat assignment but was in a window seat on the other side of the plane. Which meant I could hear absolutely no one.

 

And the man seated to my left who was busily slurping on a double gin and tonic blearily told me he was a nervous flier and proceeded to chatter away to me.

 

When I was finally able to get in a word, I told him that I was sorry but I was unable to hear him due to being 100% deaf in my left ear. He did the annoying “WHAT?” thing that wasn’t really funny back in the third grade – so he really did not endear himself to me.

 

When he ordered another double gin and tonic and started watching a movie on his tablet, I figured I was going to be able to read my book in peace. And I was. The rest of the flight was uneventful – except we were late arriving in Charlotte due to all the seat swapping at the beginning.

 

When we disembarked, I was happy to have someone shuttle me from Point A to Point B in the wheelchair because we were so late in arriving, I‘m not sure I could have hobbled to my departure gate in time.

 

I told the guy pushing the wheelchair that I really could get myself onto the plane – but he said he had nothing to do for a half hour and was happy to stand there with me. So what the heck. At least I had a seat – and would also be getting on the plane first.

 

But then disaster struck yet again.

 

When it was time to board the aircraft, he pushed me up to the gate attendant who scanned my boarding pass and said, “Uh oh…”

 

I said, “Oh, no ‘uh oh’ please – that’s all I’ve heard every time I’ve tried to board a plane on this trip!”

 

Apparently, when I was moved to seat 27A on the previous flight, it cancelled my seat on this final leg of the journey.

 

Sigh. (I was getting a little out of breath from all the sighing I was doing, by this point.)

 

She quickly gave me another seat assignment toward the back of the plane and the wheelchair pusher guy wheeled me toward the entrance of the plane.

 

Suddenly, the gate attendant came running up and said, “I’ve put you in a seat closer toward the front!” She took the boarding pass I was holding and tore it up, but she didn’t hand me a new one.

 

And she told me what row it was in, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what it was once I got on the plane.

 

I have rarely been reassigned another seat in all the years I’ve been flying – let alone all four legs of this trip to Florida and back home.

 

Plus, I‘m one of those people who carefully selects her seat and pays extra for a better seat with more legroom just so that I’m as comfortable as possible on these flights.

 

Anyway, when I got on board, I told the flight attendant that I had no earthly clue what seat I was supposed to be in – that originally I was in X seat and then I was moved twice. She told me to just stand there with her and they’d get it sorted out.

 

A few minutes later a woman came on board and said to me, “I think they gave me your seat. Why don’t you sit there and I’ll sit farther back?”

 

Oh, the kindness of strangers.

 

I thanked her and got to my seat. I was in the bulkhead row, so I had all the legroom I wanted. The guy sitting next to me started drinking double scotches because he was a nervous flier, so I thought I was in for yet another “fun” ride, but he was happy to drink in silence. And I was happy to break out my iPad and read in peace.

 

I was never so glad to arrive back home from a trip. My extremely generous and kind friend Debbie was there to pick me up because her schedule had changed so I didn’t have to take an Uber.

 

And thus ended the flights from hell where I played Musical Seats on all four legs of my journey.

 

On the other hand, it was right around this time that a flight landing in Toronto skidded and flipped over during landing. Fortunately, all on board survived. But, yeah, my flights were way better than that.

 

So, see? I sometimes try to find the silver lining in things.

 

Nevertheless, I’m wondering if I should maybe drive the next time I head down to Florida? 

 

Happy trails, my friends. May all your travels this year be smooth sailing and worry-free.

 

Until next time…

Part II of My Florida Trip. Subtitle: Planes, Trains and Automobiles

This was a blog I wrote last year (second in a series of three) that I didn't publish for some reason. So I've decided to go ahead and publish them now. Hope you enjoy! I'll get the last one out soon. And then maybe I'll write something new!

The other day I wrote about traveling by airplane on my annual winter Florida sojourn.

 

Once I finally arrived, I had a lovely time with my friends Susan and Jeff. As always, they were gracious hosts and we spent the days laughing and frolicking in the sun. Okay, that’s not entirely true. In reality, it was a little rainy and chilly that week in Florida in February. On the other hand, it was not Ohio in February and it was NOT snowing with wind chills in the single digits – so I was happy.

 

This was not a typical Florida trip for me as I was gallivanting across Florida to visit other friends. I tried including my cousin Brian in the mix as I would love to see him and his lovely wife, Joy, but I couldn’t manage it without renting a car. And I really do not want to drive in Florida, if I can help it.

 

Anyway, my next stop was in Tampa. Or Largo, to be more specific. I had rented an Airbnb in Largo and I was clued in to the wild and wonderful world of Train Travel via Amtrak. So Sue, being the extremely generous and kind friend she is (I have lots of extremely generous and kind friends), dropped me off at the Amtrak station in West Palm Beach about a half hour before the train was scheduled to depart.

 

To my knowledge or memory, I had never traveled by train before and wasn’t sure what to expect. I had purchased my ticket online, but I still sort of expected to see an Amtrak ticket counter where someone could direct me to the appropriate place to wait for the train.

 

No such luck.

 

Fortunately, I was able to decipher the signs that had me cross over to the other side of the tracks or else I would’ve been traveling south instead of north.

 

And so I sat on the outside bench awaiting the train. And sat. And sat. The guy to my left on the bench started asking me questions about the train; questions I was completely unable to answer. By this point, the train was about 45 minutes late. Was this normal? Did I somehow miss the one daily train that would take me to Tampa?

 

Finally, a train approached and stopped. I assumed I would get on the train at the nearest entrance to my location, but noooo. I had booked a “roomette” since it was a nearly 5-hour train ride and I wasn’t sure how the seats were configured. I am, of course, basing my knowledge of train seating on movies I’ve seen where four seats face each other. And I really didn’t want to take the chance that I’d be spending 5 hours with someone sitting directly across from me staring at me while I tried to read my book.

 

Anyway, a train employee took a look at my ticket and said I had to go to the other end of the train. It was only a four minute stop and I knew there was no way I could hobble all the way to the other end of the train. Fortunately, she was kind enough to grab a golf cart, hoist my suitcase into the cart and, after I sat down, we sped off to the other end of the train.

 

My roomette was cute. It included a sink and a toilet and I’m guessing if it had been an overnight stay, I could have folded down the two seats in there to make a bed. Fortunately, it was not an overnight stay and I could just sit in comfort, relax and watch the scenery go by (and read my book). The car attendant handed me a menu and said she would take my order and bring me my lunch.

 

I hadn’t even realized I would get lunch on the train – so…score. No small bag of pretzels to sustain me for the 5-hour trip!

 

I am not sure if my suitcase could have been put somewhere else for storage, but it pretty much took up the rest of the usable space in the roomette. Had I been traveling with another person, we would’ve been better off in the regular seats with people sitting across from us staring at us as we tried to read our books.

 

Because, for sure, we would have been a little cranky in such an overly cramped space. As it was, I was able to sit with my feet on the chair opposite me and avoid my suitcase altogether. But there was very little room to maneuver otherwise.

 

After about four hours, I decided I needed to use the, uh, “facilities.” I closed and locked the outer door to the hallway. Shut the curtains. Flipped down the sink. Opened the lid to the toilet…

 

…and only then remembered I also needed to close the curtains on the window side of the train. Woo. That could have been embarrassing. Especially given that we were approaching a city where the train frequently slowed down at the many train track crossings. People in cars were right outside my window!

 

Eek! I could have given them a show. Or at the very least a good laugh.

 

Anyway, I did like the convenience of having a toilet in my roomette so that was a plus on train travel.

 

What I didn’t realize is that this daily train starts in Florida and ends up in Chicago. It even stopped in Alliance (my hometown) at around 2 in the morning. Hunh. Didn’t even know they still had train schedules like this anymore.

 

I arrived in Tampa well over an hour late. My friend Doug, who had kindly and generously offered to pick me up and take me to the Airbnb, had been clued in by my frequent texts updating the delay in arrival. So fortunately, he hadn’t had to wait very long. But it was pouring rain in Tampa, so once I got off the train, I arrived at his car somewhat resembling a drowned rat.

 

I spent the next three days in Largo visiting Doug (friends since Ohio State) and in St. Petersburg visiting Christine (friends since grade school!). We talked, shopped, laughed, cooked and drank wine. But what we did not do, was swim. Even though there was a pool at this Airbnb. Why? Because it was chilly and rainy with only intermittent bouts of sunshine.

 

But that was okay. Again, because I wasn’t in cold and snowy Ohio.

 

After three days, Doug drove me halfway to North Ft. Myers and my friends Melinda and Dan drove halfway up from North Ft Myers to get me. The four of us had lunch somewhere in the middle in Sarasota. And then Doug headed back home to Largo and Melinda, Dan and I headed to N Ft Myers for the last leg of my trip.

 

Which I may end with Part III of my February Trip to Florida. Who knows? By the end of the year, you may even get the chance to read about my spring trip to Michigan. I’m so timely.

 

Anyway, stay well, my friends. Until next time…

The Trials and Tribulations of Airplane Travel

This was a blog I wrote last year (in a series of three) that I didn't publish for some reason. So I've decided to go ahead and publish them now. Well, the first one, anyway. I don't want to overwhelm anyone with putting all three out there at the same time! I'll get the other two out soon.

My 2025 Trip to Florida:

I was reminded recently of my annual winter trip to Florida when a friend I hadn’t seen in a while asked me about it.

 

And I had to admit – it was kind of a disaster. Oh, not the “visiting of friends” part of the trip – that was awesome. But the traveling part of the trip? Now, that was rather disastrous.

 

And I’d conveniently put much of it out of my mind lest my blood pressure begin to creep up once again into the danger zone.

 

It all began on the morning of my departure when I had to leave the house around 5 a.m. to head to the airport. I was fully prepared to drive myself and leave my car in Long Term Parking – even though parking at the airport these days nearly requires one to take out a signature loan in order to afford their hefty daily rates.

 

For some odd reason, I’m not comfortable ordering an Uber for an early morning airport run in case the driver decides it’s not worth crawling out of bed that early and leaves me stranded and forces me to come up with Plan B on the fly.

 

But my extremely generous and kind friend Debbie volunteered to drive all the way from Dublin to pick me up and take me to the airport. She volunteered! Who does that? (Extremely generous and kind friends do, that’s who!)

 

So Debbie and I confirmed the night before my trip that she’d be in my driveway bright and early the next morning at 5 a.m. I was already packed with my suitcase by the front door and I had my travel clothes set out for the morning. All I had to do was take a shower, brush my teeth and toss on a little lipstick and I'd be ready to go.

 

Yeah, right.

 

After I hung up the phone with Debbie, I got distracted by something and ended up repacking my entire suitcase – with the end result being that I didn’t go to bed until about 1 a.m. I set no less than three alarms for the morning – although by that point, I was only allowing myself a paltry 3-1/2 hours of sleep.

 

Which, you should know, at my advanced age is not enough rest. There are no more all-nighters in Jane’s Domain.

 

In the morning, I was awakened by something that was not my alarm clock or Siri or Alexa. Turns out it was my extremely generous and kind friend Debbie frantically knocking on all my doors and windows because I had not answered her initial knock on the front door. Because I was still sleeping at 5 a.m.!

 

When I looked at my phone and saw that it was 5:05 a.m., I re-enacted the whole Home Alone scene where I sat up in bed in a complete panic and, well, probably said a dirty word or two.

 

I then raced to the front door, saw Debbie’s car outside, but no Debbie – because she was still walking around knocking on windows and sliding patio doors. So I left my front door open so she’d know I was alive and ran back to my room to brush my teeth (at least) and throw on my clothes.

 

I had no time to wash, dry or style my hair; no time to slap on a little lipstick so I at least looked semi-prepared for a day of travel. Instead, I threw on some deodorant, sprayed some dry shampoo on my head and spritzed myself with a little cologne in the hopes that I could fake being daisy-fresh to any fellow passengers who might get close enough to get a whiff.

 

We were on the road around 5:20, which is in and of itself a miracle. Jane in her younger years would have simply missed the flight as she would not have been caught in public without a face full of makeup and a fully washed, dried and styled coif.

 

On the other hand, oversleeping like this was not something I have ever done before. Ever!

 

Oh, and by the way, you should know that Debbie had been on the phone with her husband asking him if he thought she should dial 9-1-1 so the authorities could break down my front door and check for a pulse.

 

Thankfully, he either convinced her not to make that call – or I finally answered the front door in time.

 

This little snafu was but a precursor to the delays and seat reassignments and airplane and airport problems I was to encounter.

 

Fortunately, I have TSA Pre-check, so at least I breezed through airport security. I waltzed up to the gate to make sure we had no delays – and then I hightailed it to the ladies’ room so I could do a little self-maintenance and try to appear marginally presentable for the day ahead.

 

I had used miles/credit card points to pay for my air travel – the first time I’d ever used this benefit.

 

Not sure I’ll use it again – unless it was just coincidence that I was the one getting bumped to different seats on every leg of my journey – both to and from Florida.

 

I knew it was not a good sign when I heard my name being called up to the desk at the gate. I was told that the airplane on which we were originally scheduled to fly to the connecting flight in Atlanta had been struck by lightning and they had to send a different plane.

 

Really? Struck by lightning? Yikes.

 

So she moved me to a less desirable seat – but I felt as though I didn’t have any options. Y’know – lightning strikes being out of their control and all.

 

For me “less desirable” is any seat other than the window seat on the left side of the plane. This is due to being deaf in my left ear. Planes are noisy enough – and I am forever craning my neck trying to hear either the flight attendant or my seatmates as they ask me either what I’d like to drink – or begin some inane sort of conversation that I’m loath to participate in. (Sorry – but it’s hard for me to talk to strangers on a plane when I can barely hear.)

 

The flight attendant, however, was bright and personable. She had on interesting red and black checked eyeglass frames and we literally said to each other at the same time, “Ooh – I love your glasses!”

 

So that was fun. And when she came around asking me what I’d like to drink, she recognized me and said, “Oh, my eyeglasses girl!” (So…see? I’m not totally obnoxious to get along with!)

 

We were delayed leaving Columbus and we were delayed leaving Atlanta. I had received a photo from Debbie showing her snow-filled front lawn with the comment that it had started snowing in earnest as soon as she started driving home. (Remember – this was back in February here in Ohio.) And so I wondered if we would have any sort of weather-related delays in Atlanta.

 

Well, but of course. Atlanta was experiencing a monsoon and there was another seat shuffling snafu and a delay in departing.

 

But the bigger problem was at Palm Beach International Airport.

 

We arrived in PBI, but rather than calmly touching down, gliding to the gate and deplaning – we started a holding pattern and spent the next half hour circling with a bunch of other planes. Apparently, there was a “VIP” at the airport who hadn’t yet departed and no planes could take off or land until said “VIP” left.

 

Passengers were not supposed to be out of their seats – but after a while the captain allowed folks to use the facilities. Only it became a free-for-all – and all the people who could no longer hold their bladders were standing in long lines awaiting the restrooms.

 

And the longer we circled, the surlier our formerly “bright and personable” flight attendant became. She was required to sit in the jump seat during the airport circling maneuver – but all these folks with weak bladders were blocking her in. Which is apparently a big no-no in Flight Attendant World.

 

Finally, we were given permission to land – only to spend another half hour sitting at the gate without being allowed to deplane.

 

I was supposed to arrive before 1 p.m. – but I didn’t pick up my suitcase in baggage claim until nearly five o’clock.

 

Now I was a little surly since I had had no time for breakfast (obviously) and my only food all day had been a couple of tiny bags of pretzels.

 

Fortunately, Sue and Jeff are great at following flight arrival times and had not spent the afternoon at the cell phone lot of the airport. And instead of going out to lunch, we all went out to dinner. Where I had a big glass of wine to recuperate from my day of travel.

 

Anyway, I’ve written a book. So time to shut it down.

 

Stay tuned for part II.

 

Stay well, my friends. Until next time…

Yep. I’m Still Here!

Whoa. The last time I published a blog was in mid-July of 2025. And the last time I wrote a blog was in mid-August. I never published it because I never finished it. Bad writer! Bad!

 

In my defense, I think in the last year I’ve been completely focused on my Total Knee Replacement surgeries, or TKR – and, since the first surgery was my right knee, the appropriate acronym is RTKR.

 

This happened on September 29^th 2025.

 

Never had surgery before – unless you count the removal of four impacted wisdom teeth at age eighteen.

 

Never stayed overnight in the hospital before. Unless you count the waiting time in the Emergency Room on multiple occasions, which could, I suppose, count as an overnight stay.

 

Nevertheless, I had two for-real overnight stays – one in September, and then my LTKR for my other knee in December.

 

As it’s now February of 2026, I’m (hopefully) done with knee-related surgeries – for which I’m extremely grateful! Now all I’ve gotta do is hope that the scars retreat to faded barely-discernible vertical lines and my legs continue to get stronger.

 

To that end, I’m doing well. I just returned from a trip to Florida, which included a 6-day Caribbean cruise with my friend Susan that was just lovely and much-needed for both of us.

 

According to my handy-dandy Apple watch, I evidently walked anywhere from 5,000-7,500 steps a day. That’s a LOT of steps in Jane’s Domain where I’ve spent much of the last year hobbling around. And post-surgeries, while I was still (at times) hobbling around using either a walker or a cane, I wasn’t walking that much at all.

 

The only downside of taking that many steps per day was that my legs (knees, ankles and feet) got swollen. And I didn’t have my ice packs handy to reduce the swelling on the daily. Had I brought them, I would have needed an extra suitcase - and I overpacked enough, per usual.

My physical therapists had told me to expect swelling for six months to a year after knee replacement surgery. Oh, joy.

 

On the other hand, it was only a small nuisance and didn’t really cause any major problems. (With the exception that I didn’t want my puffy feet and ankles to be seen in my resort wear!)

 

Even better, I didn’t have any issues with airplane travel this year as I had last year. And…I just realized I wrote three (count ‘em – THREE) blogs about my trip last year to Florida. But I never published them! Don’t ask me why. They weren’t bad.

 

So I’m thinking that after this, I may go ahead and publish them. Why not? I’m only a year behind…!

 

Anyway, it’s good to be back in touch. It’s good to be sitting in front of a keyboard.

 

And I hope you’re still out there willing to give my blog a read!

 

Oh, but before I go – I wanted to talk about a couple random acts of kindness that happened at the airport.

 

The first one was when it came time for me to order an Uber to take me home from the airport. I had only used Uber a couple of times – and neither had been airport-related. So I wasn’t sure when to reserve it because I knew I needed to get to Baggage Claim and collect my bags before I could get to the pickup spot.

 

Well, this was my first error. I was standing at the carousel once it started up when I requested the Uber. I told the driver that I just needed to get my bags and would be right out.

 

Yeah, right.

 

Turns out that five planes had arrived around the same time so there were five sets of bags that were being thrown on the same carousel. Ugh. I watched that thing spin around spitting out all sorts of bags – but not my Aqua blue suitcase and carryon bag.

 

Then the carousel stopped. For seven whole minutes, we all stood around losing hope that we’d ever see our bags again. The guy next to me guessed that every single baggage handler had gone on a simultaneous coffee break.

 

Meanwhile, my Uber driver is sitting out there waiting for me to show up.

 

I kept texting her and apologizing and said I didn’t know what to do. Cancel the ride? Order another one when my bags did show up on that blasted carousel?

 

She assured me that it was fine and that she’d wait for me.

 

But what I later learned is that there is a fee incurred if they have to wait too long. Only she didn’t know how long before that extra fee kicked in. Five minutes? Ten? Who knows? All I know is that it was an expensive Uber ride with extra fees tacked on.

 

Oh well. She was a very nice person and we chatted the entire drive home. And she gave me some tips for future Uber rides – including the one I’ve been most fearful of – reserving an Uber for a very early morning airport run.

 

And the second random act of kindness happened as I was dragging my heavy suitcase toward the Uber driver’s car. A young airport worker in a yellow vest saw me puzzling out the signage and asked me if I was meeting an Uber driver. I said yes, and told him the make, color and license plate of car she was driving. He knew right where she was and he took my heavy suitcase from me and said he’d be happy to help. He then lifted my bags into her trunk and opened the back door for me to enter the vehicle.

 

When I tried to hand him a tip, he gave it right back to me and said, “No charge, ma’am! It’s my pleasure. We should all just do nice things for each other; I believe this world will be a better place!”

 

I told him I wholeheartedly agreed with him – and thanked him profusely. And I told him he had just erased all those feelings of frustration as I waited for my bags and fretted over keeping the Uber driver waiting.

 

By the time I arrived at my own front door, I was in good spirits and relaxed and oh so happy to be home again.

 

It only takes a moment to make someone feel better about things. Even if it’s just to smile at them and wish them a good day.

 

So here’s me smiling at you – and wishing you a good day. Be well, friends.

 

Until next time.