The Hottest Day

The Hottest Day

It was quite possibly the hottest day of the year, but let me tell you how I got here first.

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Left behind because this is about me, at least that’s the way Patsy tells the story whenever she hears me telling my version. I will admit though that her side is a bit more thrilling at least at this point in the story; but once again, remember the story is about me and not her.

I had things to do and could not depart Fort Richardson when she was able to do so. If I hadn’t of stayed back, the planning for a mission coming up in the new year would be behind if I hadn’t. That’s how all this started. Eventually, I had the plan in place with the proper coordination completed and I just needed to get on with getting to Texas, Christmas with the family and back Patsy and the kids would have been there for a week already by the time I arrived.

I began preparing to depart. For the last several days, the weather had hovered around -50°F and

bitterly cold all over the Anchorage area. Spec Five Edward Cassidy—my class two and seven section chief—had volunteer to haul me out to Anchorage International to get me on my way. Before leaving my quarters that early evening, I had to conduct the goldfish feeding training that I had promised the kids I would do so the fish keeper would keep those residing in our kitchen tank alive while we were in the lower 48. This wasn’t a huge task, but one very important thing to the kids.

Ed got me to the airport around 1900 hours and I started my adventure—thinking all the while that everything was under control. Little did I know what was to come.

Still a new first lieutenant with only seven months in grade and therefore strapped for cash; most of it thrown at Christmas presents for the two youngsters and tickets to Texas, I chose to try the military standby as my best choice to keep me from running out of funds. The lateness of my departure caused choices to be somewhat limited. The best ticket I could manage flying out of Alaska guaranteed me no further in San Francisco but six hours closer to Texas than I was currently.

Upon arrival in San Francisco. I found service operations had been suspended for the night and thus I spent the rest of the night in two chairs on the main concourse actively engaged in what the least prepared man in the airport called sleeping.

Thoughtful of my circumstances. I tried to stay as careful as possible, regarding the wrinkle of my Dress Greens—by-the-way, the only clothes I had for the remainder of my trip as I had checked my baggage for Houston International before departing Anchorage for Texas. After all, I’d been on commercial aircraft before, and this couldn’t be that hard and it was half price.

As soon as the airport awakened and started functioning, I located Ticket Row and found that my best choice was well made. A Happy Black Salesman Guy and I ended up sitting side-by-side on the aircraft and we were headed to Las Vegas and on to Tulsa, Oklahoma—hopefully in that order. Another three hours would get me to Houston.

I talked to one of the ticket service attendants and she found a connection for me to Houston. I was feeling pretty good for a change.

Our flight had a short scheduled layover in Vegas. At that time in the world, time on the ground between flight/connections was much looser controlled than the world we live in now. After touching down in Vegas, Happy Black Salesman Guy and I departed our aircraft and made our way to the gambling area on the main concourse.

Once we made our way to the slots and tables, I found that I besides little cash, I had very little in the way of coinage also. I took a turn or two on the dice tables without much luck coming my way. Then I took what change I had and shoved it into the slot machines—having to change machines every time they consumed their denomination. Then a stroke of luck managed to find that me and my last penny slot try produced $5.00 in pennies. I took these to the nearest cashier and redeemed half of what I had previously lost.

Unfortunately, we had lost track of time and the Happy Black Salesman Guy and I had to do the O.J.Dash back to our gate, arriving just before they closed the door for departure.

I hadn’t provided for the additional cost of cleaning and pressing my Dress Greens in our leave expenses—No, not one bit! So there went my miniscule winnings!

Finally, I was on my way to Houston, or I hoped I was at any rate.

Upon arrival and saying goodbye to my newest friend in the world—the Happy Black Salesman Guy—I headed straight to the nearest phone booth and began calling collect to track down Patsy and the kids up in Bryan or College Station—depending on which parent I found them with.

Next, I was off to find baggage claim in search of my checked luggage from Anchorage. This turned out to be problem-mattock. Come to discover, nowhere in the state of Texas could any airline find my bags. I left the baggage claim area with their promise to call my parent’s number in College Station when or if they found anything and my promise to recheck with them within a week if I hadn’t heard from them.

I remained in the baggage claim area until anyone from Brazos County showed up to pick me up and return me to that area. Things like this are way gone and forgotten now that we have cell phones. Youbetcha!

Some three to four hours later, I finally saw my son running toward me from the outside doors of the termanal, hollering all the way—I had finally been found. A very happy gathering, I tell you now! My first daughter, Melanie was extremely happy to see her daddy. Patsy now had her own Ice Driving story due to the weather they connected with from her Dad and Mom coming to Dallas to get her and the kids on their trip down. Their journey took three times as long to get from DFW to Bryan as normal, starting late at night and running through the next morning.

We decided to go back upstairs and get something to eat before we started back toward Bryan. I had to sit and listen to Patsy’s Ice Drive Story during the entire meal—I owed that much to after telling her a few of my stories of traveling on the Alaskan Highways for my Army adventures.

While Patsy and my Dad, with the kids, moved down stairs to find a comfortable waiting spot; my Mom and I took off to get her car so we could start the remainder of our vacation in the Lower 48.

We went out the doors and headed to the parking area. That’s when it hit me—smack dab in the face. The day outside was a typical Houston, Texas winter day—probably about 85⁰F and very humid!

BTW Reader, you might recall that I was dressed in the Army’s Dress Greens, a long sleeve shirt with necktie, Dress Coat buttoned up and tightly fitting, and carrying my overcoat—at least I could get away with that. BUT, the biggest consideration of all was that I had not been in the out-of-doors since I walked inside Anchorage International Airport. My body was still on Alaska Acclamation, not Texas Acclamation. The further we walked in search of my Mom’s car the more the weather took its effect on me. Afterall, I was now in a world 130⁰ warmer than I was acclimatized to. My body was not prepared for this situation one bit.

We looked where my mom thought she had parked, Her car was nowhere to be found.

We headed back to the terminal but luckily came across a parking shuttle guy who suggested that she might have parked on the other side of the terminal—both parking areas laid out similarly. Well maybe?

The more we walked, the steamier I became. I was having a tough time. Probably dehydrating with each step I walked? I remembered the Texas heat just as much as I recalled the -50⁰F of the Alaskan weather I had left behind. However, that left me without consolation for my situation—Man! It was hot and getting hotter the further I hiked.

We finally made it to the other parking lot and the parking guy was correct—the two areas looked pretty similar.

By this time, I was having to ask my Mom to stop every once in a while so I could get my breath. Man! She was taking the 85⁰F temperature much better than I was, despite her age. Here I was in the prime of my life and I was having to get my Mom to slow down so I could keep up. How could this be?

Eventually she recognized where we were and spotted her car. Before one could say hold my beer, we were outside the baggage claim doors and loading the family to head for Bryan. BTW, I was soaking wet with sweet inside my Dress Greens!

Two Days after arriving in Bryan, I received a call from the airline advising that they had not found my luggage and had sent me a check for $300—by express mail—for my clothes and incidentals; this based on my description that I had given them on that phone call when the search for my bags had begun. I had sufficiently recovered from my near heat stroke and could shop for myself, making good use of my sky money $300.

Another Two Days passed and I received still another call from the airline advising me that they had located my baggage in New Orleans and I could pick it up the next day at Easterwood Airport—another BTW,just around the curve off the end of the F&B Road from my Dad and Mom’s house.

We had a very nice visit in Texas and were soon ready to depart back to Alaska—all four flying together this time. I even had to purchase a new carry-on to be able to pack all my new clothes to take back with me.

My Dress Greens had been cleaned, pressed, and ready to fly back in—but this time Military Reserve—no more bumping or playing around.

Some 52 years have passed since that day searching for my Mom’s car in Houston International’s Death Valley parking lot and I’ve never experienced a hotter day than that one! Youbetcha!

And just one more BTW, the fish didn’t survive Ed’s feeding regime.