In the immortal words of Jim Anchower, holas amigos, I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya. At the end of the last installment I had sampled the unfortunately named Pocari Sweat sports beverage, lost Philippines brother at the airport in Portland, missed our flight, and achieved the nearly unlockable achievement of getting Hotwire to issue a refund.
After the plane for Salt Lake City left without us, our next option for getting to New York was to take the red eye to JFK. The airline was nice enough to change Philippines brother’s ticket at no charge, so I took care of that, then rebooked Stateside brother’s and my standby tickets. Once these chores were complete there was nothing to do but wait for it to be midnight. It all felt a bit anti climactic after we all worked so hard to get our feet back on US soil.
We decided we would be more comfortable waiting in the Sky Lounge, so, three day passes later, we were settled in and trying to relax and nap a bit. At some point both brothers dozed off, and I felt restless so I went on a jaunt around the airport, called a friend, and just generally tried to make the best of the time I had.
On a random sidenote, I was so sick of wearing the same clothes for several days, even with shifting things around for some variety (first t-shirt under button-front shirt, then t-shirt over button-front shirt, then button-front shirt alone. I could swear there was another iteration but I can’t think what it would be because there aren’t many more things you can do with a t-shirt and a button-front shirt). So, on one of my wanderings through the airport I found a store that sold nice clothes (which is unusual, because often they sell weird, cheaply made, grossly overpriced things that have a definite Boca Raton retirement community feel to them) and picked up a few shirts that got me through the rest of the trip and through subsequent summer travels. So, yay for that.
Finally it was time to board. The main thing I remember about the flight was that my seatmate took all the blankets in our row and I had to ask the flight attendant to find another one for me. Despite my blanket famine, I slept most of the way, as I assume my brothers did, and eventually we landed at JFK.
From there we took a cab directly to Bellevue Hospital, hoping that Philippines brother would be able to start the process of getting a prosthetic leg, and also that he would be able to receive any medical treatment he might need. This turned out to be a day-long debacle of different departments and going down various antiseptic-smelling hallways and sitting in this odd waiting room that seemed more like it belonged in Grand Central Station than in a hospital. Oh, and bad bagels and substandard coffee.
After evaluating Philippines brother, the hospital decided to keep him for a bit. At that point there wasn’t anything else Stateside brother and I could do at the hospital so we went back to Stateside brother’s house for a short visit and dinner. Then it was Uber for me out to Queens to finally flop down into an actual bed in an actual hotel that wasn’t in any way connected to a karaoke lounge. I got to sleep for about 6 hours before it was time to go back to JFK and catch my flight home.
Fortunately the standby gods were smiling on me that morning and I got a decent seat on the first flight, and returned to my normal life about 7 hours later. I don’t remember a thing about the flight, which makes me think I slept through most of it.
As for Philippines brother, he is still living in New York, sharing space with Stateside brother. He has benefited from the treatment he received at Bellevue, and will get a prosthetic leg fairly soon. He says that he is enjoying his new life in the midst of a bustling city, and that has to be worth something.