Two days ago, I was lounging in the bed of a Ford F150 with a handful of lovely ladies as we waited for the ferry to take us from Vancouver Island back to the mainland. It was so sunny and warm I had to scramble for sunscreen. As my plane landed last night, the pilot announced it was -6. Welcome home.
I’ve been on the left coast to do AJAC’s EcoRun, which is 20 journos driving 20 cars around for a few days. Most of them are electrics or hybrids or diesels, though we did have the new Hyundai Tuscon Fuel Cell – hydrogen. We weren’t pitting the cars against each other, just putting the new tech into real world applications. It’s fun, but I won’t deny that hypermiling a Mustang sucks on your soul just a little.
At the last minute yesterday, Air Canada pulled the scheduled plane and stuck in a smaller one. That meant they were bouncing people off the flight, and I didn’t know until literally ten minutes before it left if I had a seat. Some of us made it; some of us didn’t. A funny thing happens when you’re desperate to get on board a flight, and you’ve just been trying to digest something like that horrific German crash: there are always stories of people who *just* made it on the flight, and others who missed it because they got stuck in traffic. You realize how arbitrary that is. You really do. For all the snark that flies around these events, finding out about that tragedy when you’re in the midst of 50 people who seem to spend more time in the air than on the ground is sobering.
I got back to kittens who were happy to see me; so happy they thought I’d like to play a version of Bouncing Around the Bedroom until 1 am. I did not. They didn’t care, though it was certainly a better feeling to come home to instead of the way I left, with an early morning death threat delivered to my inbox. It’s been determined it’s a spammy mess, but they’re getting better at this, I tell ya. I’ve been so busy ignoring my Nigerian benefactors I forgot to remember the world is full of some pretty nasty people.