POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 2

The people in Florida dress well - it's the Latino influence. I want to say that Florida is the most multicultural state in the USA, but I know that's not true. However, I do think Florida is probably the most densely populated state, in terms of  Latino folk, in North America. There's a saying in Nicaragua, "the greatest thing about Florida is it's so close to the US!"

We made our connection and took another American Airlines flight to Chicago. Travel between Managua (Nicaragua) and Rochester (New York) now takes an entire day and it doesn't matter which airline you take. Goodbye mindless chatter and hello book!

More friendly cabin crew greeted us and yet again, every seat on the aircraft was full - something we've learned is now the norm in the States - sad for the airline staff who now wait for days in order to receive their "free" seat  when travelling recreationally.

But still, even though you aren't served a meal and the cabin crew work a hundred hours a week and look like they just went to bed, the travel time between destinations is still the same.  Before we knew it we were touching down in the Windy City, Chicago.

Chicago is a known entity to our family. We've come and gone from O'Hare a squillion times. 

As a child it seemed to me the most modern airport on Earth. Not anymore. Whilst it truly is a model of efficiency, it's no longer tremendously effective.

The gate lounges are now tiny in comparison to those of Dallas, Atlanta, Denver, etc. There aren't any travelators where you need them and so the airport feels just a little too big, because you have to actually walk between the different concourses of the terminal (and that would be easy if it were solomente yo, pero I have 4 kids and due to baggage restrictions we basically have to carry the kitchen sink with us in order to keep travelling costs down to a minimum), where in actual fact it's just a little too small - the airport needs to be bigger, much, MUCH bigger.

The food, diverse, though problematic for the cholesterol count, is available in abundance. 

Another surprising element in Chicago was the people. In my opinion, Americans are not JUST Americans - there's more to it - they're so regionalised, deeply influenced by the area of the US that they come from. It's fairly easy to pick out a Californian when compared with a Bostonian, or a gal from  Mississippi as opposed to a lad from Oregon.

From fun, flashy, flamboyant, Floridians to colorless, casually clothed, chubby, Chicagoans. The atmosphere in Miami had included an element of hilarity, but not in Chicago - it was business, prompt and somber. 

"Excuse me ma'am", I had wanted to say, "could you please lower your attitude so myself and my family can simply step over it - we need to board our aircraft". But alas, we had to cross into 'oncoming traffick', nearly losing Raf in the process, so that this adorably charming, overly blinged woman could continue to bicker with an ever-cowering airport worker.

We made our way through the masses of people and boarded our final flight for the day, a small Embraer aircraft bound for Buffalo, near Niagara Falls in New York.

Now many people dislike the smaller aircraft, but as a pilot once told me "if the power goes out in a smaller aircraft, there's more time to glide safely to a landing strip than if you're flying in a larger aircraft - which just plummets out of the sky." I strapped myself in and began to drift into snooze (flight mode).

New York was in a heat wave. As we walked up the aerobridge, every step towards the terminal's air-conditioning was like a step towards Heaven. We had been flying all day and were savagely beaten. It was midnight and we were ready for bed. However, this was our first day in the United States and we anticipated great things - we marched towards the exit and straight into the loving arms of Shane Seaburg, our American "best friend."

It was terrific to be hanging with one of our very own. In the car we laughed about times gone by - so many funny stories. Shane and Jen had been there through the thick of our most embarrassing "exchange student" memories.

Elizabeth and I have both completed exchanges in New York. Interesting moments include (but are not limited to) me intruding in the Church's mother's room, which as I learnt in the US, really is only for mothers... The abandonment of babes in cars, parks and empty apartments... Elizabeth's famously delicious brunch menu, including fried onions, mushrooms, runny scrambled eggs, rye toast, bitter coffee and sharp grapefruit juice - no OJ, eggs or sausages here!!! Oh the laughter, it was hard not to cry.

We arrived at Niagara Falls at close to 1am. The night air was thick and warm. Shane circled around the abandoned car parks, searching, lurking, desirous of only the best and safest car park and as close to the Rainbow Bridge as possible.

Niagara Falls is an interesting place. The American side I liken to inner-city Buffalo, whilst the Canadian side is more-or-less Las Vegas.

Yet on this occasion we wondered whether Canada was closed for the night, even though the entrance belonged to a "major city." It began to feel like we were searching for the secret land out of fairytale "the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe"  when we couldn't find the access point to the bridge.

But alas, Canada does exist, and so does the entrance to get there. In fact, Canada was beckoning us over - yes, the signage was dimly lit, and the path leading us on was tucked away around the side, and we had to traverse some of America's dodgiest sidewalks to get there - but it does exist, though hoofing it from the US side is clearly not encouraged.

We circled through the large revolving metal gate, which separated "freedom" and the "Queen". We took a few steps in and I became rather nervous. (We travelled via foot because it costs 50 cents each. The tariff for cars is $40 roundtrip and you can't even see the Falls - which, might I add, are more beautiful at night because they're illuminated with expensive lights)

"Is this a smidge suspicious?" I wondered in a paranoid manner. "Here I am, it's 1am, and I'm walking to Canada? I'm on foot and am travelling via one of the World's Seven Wonders - that's not normal, perhaps a bit doubtful? I'm dropping off my 14 year old daughter - who does that? It's like I'm trafficking CHILDREN!!! What will the immigration officials ask me? Is what I'm doing legal?"

I continued to build upon my fears until I felt a surge in my body which pushed downwards and HARD. "YIKES - 62 metres and nothing below but rocks!" I'm not too flash with great heights. My initial migratory terror was replaced by another, more primal fear.

Shane, Lizzy, Franny, Renzy, Sez and Raf consumed contentedly every second of Niagara glory. I could hear them chatting excitedly as they viewed the sights through the permanently placed, quarter-fed binoculars.

I too delighted in the moment as I ran FULL-PELT from a third of the way over the bridge to the other side. "Bridges that tall are just not safe!" I looked down as I ran and saw between the great big cement slabs the water flowing peacefully beneath.

I ran and I ran and then I nearly died - it had been more exercise than I had exerted in the last 20 years of my life (gym time included), but I reached the other side and my stomping and accidental crash into the immigration office glass door nearly caused the awaiting officer to draw her weapon and shoot me.

She appeared startled and cranky. I decided to wait for the rest of the family before entering the office for processing. I stood to the side, Bond style. I was sure that her eyes hadn't yet focussed on my great hulking form, but then my brain caught up with me. We were the only ones on the bridge! She would know it was me regardless. But I had a solution, I'd blame Sez! (Naughty boys...)

The happy tourists arrived after many long minutes. My toe-tapping impatience made my discomfort more obvious. When I had initially arrived at the immigration office I had forgotten all our woes and could have taken on the world. However, I had suffered many contemplative moments since, with only the distant roar of the falls in the background, slowly pushing me towards THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY - inconceivable.

I allowed everybody else to walk into "Canada" first. The immigration officer was ready and waiting. She had never smiled before. Her eyes narrowed as she concertedly attempted to determine who had rudely awoken her from the peace of slumber. She was assessing us psychologically by what we were wearing and how we were speaking.

How we were speaking? I hadn't even formulated a plan for us all to stick to! What would Liz say when examined? Even worse, what would Franny  blurt out when quizzed? All these years we'd irresponsibly taught her to tell the truth! Would she say that she was to be "working" in Canada for the summer? That would be an immediate entry "denied" and possibly detrimental to our careers as missionaries in a third world context! I slowly unraveled and began to "lose it."

I cooly approached the officer and took control of the situation. "Hello, and how are you this delightful, summer's nigh?" I asked. "Fine, passports please." Her response was short and sweet. I began to fumble and bumble, she was trickier than I had anticipated! I started to feel like Ned Flanders from the Simpsons, "Okaley Dokely," I replied.

I handed over the passports. "What brings you to Canada?" Her questioning irritated me. I felt a flushing from my soul - fear and nervousness was being replaced by irritability and condescension - I mean really, did this woman not realise who she was working for? She was virtually rent-a-cop for America's 51st state!

It was late, I'd been flying all day, and I wasn't even "going to Canada." I looked her dead in the eye as I answered, "Well, I'm going to go straight through those doors, drop my fourteen year old daughter off on the curb and walk straight back over to the good ol' US of A."

I could hear Liz's gasping behind me. We love Canada, they're our sister country in the Commonwealth. Some of our best friends are Canadian. If asked at that moment about my sanity, Liz would've had me committed. No, I hadn't handled that well, but was still streets ahead of Sez's "butthead" responses in Miami.

The officer tightened her lips "Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight... Francesca, why are you going to Canada?" Franny stepped forward, "for summer camp," she said timidly. "Brilliant!", I thought to myself - the girl is smart, but not cocky, honest, but not divulging, thoroughly sociable whilst NOT being too dramatic - after all, you know how I loathe drama.   The immigration official quizzed the rest of our family and finally let us go through.

Paul, my amigo from Sydney days when I was just a tot, was waiting for us with his new squeeze, Ms. Fox. They were to whisk Franny off to summer camp at a ranch in Ontario. Paul is now a farrier (blacksmith) and Ms. Fox a horse whisperer.

It was great to hang out with an Aussie, in the middle of the night, in a foreign country, whilst handing over our eldest daughter. But alas, we had many hours of driving to do and there was not a second to waste.

After awkward conversations where I hinted on marriage for the 2 of them, we gave Franny lots of hugs and bid her farewell. Pauly gave me an especially gripping handshake and we trotted (I bolted) back over the Rainbow Bridge to America - third immigration interrogation in 24 hours.

The US immigration officers were waiting for me. Was there to be no end? And these were not the Canadian, equal opportunity, blonde haired, female types of officers... These were the served in Iraq, fake tan, crew cut,  and have been lifting weights on my cigarette breaks, should be a model on the front cover of "Men's Health", type of officers.

There were four of them. A lump formed in my throat. I meandered on over to the officer who was smiling at me (reverse, reverse, reverse psychology - I was on to this fella). My family submissively followed -  a little too Islamicly for my liking. I threw my arms around them and smiled in a "pro-west" kind of way.

"How are you today?" the chap asked. There was a long pause - I looked at Liz. My eyes pleaded with her, "WHAT DO I SAY?" I turned back to the smiling officer.

Shane, our American friend, who now knew better, stopped in with another of the gents and was being processed rather rapidly.

Seconds more glided by and Shane started towards the exit. My heart was in my throat, I was in a haze. Every action seemed overpowering - I was merely a visitor in my own body, euphorically lacking any kind of control.

I broke the silence, "We're good thank you." He continued to smile at me. He had already finished scanning the passports and entering in details. The passports were stacked in front of me ready for collection.

I noticed that all of the other officers were watching us, with smiles on their faces. "They're going to take us all out!",  I thought  to myself. We're as good as DEAD! I was waiting for a corridor I had seen many times before - they'd try to break the children with all angles of questioning.

"How has your trip been so far?" the officer respectfully asked. "Ooooooooooh, he's good - He's trying to trick me!" I knew that he was on to me, but didn't know in what way or for why.

"Um, yup, we've had a long day and now we're heading on to Rochester, before travelling to Minnesota, and then California, and then back to Rochester, and then New York City, and then DC, blah, blah, blah..." Liz tapped me on the shoulder, "He's not even listening... He doesn't even care... Let's go home, Jeddy..." I picked up our passports, thanked the dude for his time and marched out of interrogation into the land of the free.

We arrived in Rochester at 4am. Beth had been waiting up all night for our arrival. She was ready to talk and Liz's response was friendly, yet final, "Goodnight, I'm going to bed." And that epitomised our sentiment - here for many GREAT conversations, we have so much to say - however, it is timing, patience and being concise that is going to lead us to success.

We're in the USA for a couple of months sharing light (the message is Jesus, evangelism and discipleship), Nicaragua (trying to raise funds to continue our work) and our family (we're going here, there and everywhere).

If you are an Australian and would like to support us through the Australian Christian Churches - International Missions (Australian arm of the Assemblies of God), please visit our facebook page, Capital on the Edge, click on "files" at the top of the page, and then download "Field Worker Support Pledge form.pdf", fill it in and send it back to them.

If you are an American and would like to support us through the Assembly of God Church (for a tax receipt), write a cheque (check) in the name of "Zimmerman Community Church" and send your cheque (check) to:

                    Zimmerman Community Church

                    12567 5th Avenue

                    Zimmerman, MN, 55398

- On the memo line of your cheque (check) you should write: Capital on the Edge

- At the end of the tax year, Zimmerman Community Church will send you a tax-deductible receipt

- Please e-mail us (CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com) so that we can notify Zimmerman Community Church that we are expecting to receive a donation.

If you are a Church and would like to consider having us come and share about what we are doing in Nicaragua, please check out our Calender for 2013, go to "Capital on the Edge" in facebook, click on files and then CLICK on 2013 Weekly Calendar (incomplete).doc and e-mail us: CapitalontheEdge@gmail.com

Thanks for reading Part 2 of Planes, Trains and Automobiles,

Jeddoxoxoxo    

PS.. Sorry for sooooo many boring details - airlines have been my passion, I have SO much to say... Also, the people we're talking about, the Churches we're visiting, we're extremely fond of and want to express everything in detail. If you're bored, go play x-box or watch the Aussies in London or something equally as mind-numbing/frustrating...