Global Andy

Friday night I had the privilege of experiencing IAH – Houston’s Int’l airport named after the 41st president.  (George, you might want to rethink this one.)  Of the countless airports I have visited in the world, it is my absolute least favorite.

If I was nice like my friend Matt, I might sent an open-letter to the airport.  But alas, I fall way short of the standard of Mr. Mikalatos – humorist, author, do-gooder, and overall nice guy.

Here’s my story:  I arrived at IAH from Mexico City Friday afternoon around 5:40 CST.   I was on a United ticket but the international flight was with Continental because they are both under the Star Alliance.   I had an 1 hour and 13 minutes to make my connection.  So I go through customs, wait for bag, re-check it, go through security again and look on the board for my connecting flight.  I knew I had to hoof it because I was at terminal C and had to go to terminal A.  Now IAH has an underground train that goes all the way.  I had ridden that when I first went through the week before.  But as I followed the signs to terminal A it took me to an above-ground train.

I waited for this train but they said it was not working.  When it finally arrives it even stopped again on the middle of the tracks before getting to terminal B.  It was then that I noticed it didn’t go to A but you had to go to another spot to catch a bus to A.  So I ran off the train when it finally rolled into the station.  I passed everyone to make it first down an escalator.  I was like OJ in the airport.  Oops bad analogy.

I had to run down a long corridor, then another, then another, then another.  (Who designed this airport!) Finally I made it where you catch the bus.  It just left.  I had to wait another 5 minutes.   Whent he bus arrived, the driver was kind and took me first to my gate rather than the four others on the bus who had later flights.  I ran to my gate and the two United agents said “you’re late. It just left”.  I had to explain why I was late.  As I did another passenger came running up.  He wasn’t on my bus so I assume he took the underground train. The male United agent didn’t seem to be concerned of my plight.  But the lady showed pity perhaps realizing they could have held the plane for us.  She said, “I am going to get you on a Continental flight.”  She puts me on the flight and prints off a form.  I still needed to show my ID to Continental gate agent to get a boarding pass but I was on….  So I was told.

I went to back through security and back to C.  I was early for this flight by almost 2 hours.  My cell phone battery had died on me and wouldn’t recharge but I paid for internet and skyped Robin telling her I was coming home later than I thought.  When the gate agent arrived, I walked up handed her my official United thingy and explained my story a 2nd time.  She said she couldn’t find me in the system and sent me to the Continental service counter.

The line at the Continental counter was long.  The employees running the counter must have received training from the Post Office.  The longer I waited the more I realized I was gonna cut it close to make this Continental flight.  Finally a lady came off her break and taking her sweet time finally logged-in and called me over.  Again, I explained my plight.  She says I am not in the system.  I decided to plea for her sense of compassion.  No luck.  She said I could call United and so I tried to explain the cell phone being kaput.  I asked if she could call United for me.  She said she couldn’t.  (At this time I was tempted to explain to her the true definition of customer service.  You know that she was hired to serve customers.) She wouldn’t even put me on standby and told me my only hope was going back to United.  I vowed then and there to never do business with Continental again.

So I go back to Terminal A and through security a 3rd time.  I knew at this point, I was staying in lovely Houston for the evening but perhaps United would put me up for the night.  When I got to United’s ticket counter no one was there as no more United flights were leaving that evning.  I picked up the courtsey phone and a nice lady took my call.  For the 4th time I explained my plight and she sounded like she cared.  She looked up in her computer and said “you are on a Continental flight that leaves in 5 minutes”.   I about screamed, ‘what?!?’   I am not sure what the computer deal was but I believe she was right because later I looked up United.com and under my itineraries I was listed on that flight.  My only conclusion is that Continental is incompetent.

It was too late to go back to Terminal C and make that flight – even if I parachuted in with George HW, I had no chance.   The only United person left in the building was a guy in baggage area.  He wasn’t supposed to but he put me on list for 6 am flight in the morning.  I determined that I could go to a hotel and hope United reimbursed me but even if I did, I’d have to leave at 4 am to be back at the airport.  So for the first time ever in countless trips, I sleep at an airport.

I found a chair that was for massages.  Rather lumpy where the massage rollers were but leathery soft none the less.  I felt sorry for myself until I thought of these kids I had met the day before.  See I had visited Casa Alianza in Mexico City that ministers to kids that are displaced and without a home.  I thought of those kids who sleep in parks or under bridges or in sewers.  At least I had a place to sleep and it was only for one night.  They are not safe and are targets for traffickers.  I was safe.  I was warm.  I had my travel mask so even the lights didn’t keep me awake.  (I didn’t really sleep but at least rested.)  My circumstance was not ideal but it was temporary.  And certainly I wasn’t being forced to do vile acts like the women and children who are being trafficked.

I made it to Denver the next morning and I slept on that entire flight.   I made it home to my wife and kids who love me.  Though I wouldn’t choose it, my ordeal was a gift to remind me that life is not easy and even my discomforts are small in comparison to those who need to be rescued.  (I am talking about those in Mexico but could possibly apply to anyone who flies Continental.)

Last night, I tweeted (and thereby updated my facebook status):  “Happy Baked Potato Day”.  This caused some confusion.  Farmers were liking it. Moms were thinking they missed this day. And a friend from college who is in the grocery industry wrote: ‘I love important holidays. Makes me proud to be a grocery man on days like today.’   He probably started asking his distributors how they were celebrating this important food holiday.

But it was an inside joke.

See a few months ago, we were reading a collection of Peanuts cartoons to our boys and there was one were Rerun, Lucy and Linus little brother, goes to Charlie Brown’s house to try to sell some homemade Valentine’s.  Looking at the hearts, Charlie Brown says “they look like baked potatoes”  and goes back inside.  Rerun yells after him, “Give them on Baked Potato Day then!”.

The first time we read it I laughed out loud.  (As much as I loved Peanuts as a kid, I was surprised to see how many are not really that funny to me as an adult.  This one was.) I had to explain it to Jack and Drew and then they laughed too.  And as any parent would understand, I had to read this cartoon like 100 times over the next few days and each time they would laugh and repeat it.  Or they just walk up and say it.   Jack would yell it like Rerun.

With Valentine’s Day happening this week, Baked Potato Day naturally had to come in the same week.  So last night we celebrated “Baked Potato Day”.  Robin made a poster and put it on the wall near the dinner table and we had spuds and broccoli.  (And we had mac and cheese for those who like saying “Bake Potato” but not eating them.)

So last night was Baked Potato Day in the McCullough household but you have to wait until August 19th for ‘National Potato Day’.

Yesterday Luke and I worked at the Community Food Share barrel in Wal-mart.  Luke is in Cub Scouts and this was a chance to earn a badge.  He stood there with Ethan who is another cubscout.  Ethan’s dad Kirk, who is the Den Leader, and I stood there with them basically telling them how much longer they had to stand and reminding them to hold up bags.

See basically, the folks at Community Food Share know that people are more likely to pick a bag to fill with non-perishable items if some cute little cub scout is there.  We didn’t really interact unless somebody came up and asked for a bag or what it was for.  Just stood and smiled for several hours.  Ethan and Kirk were there from 11:30 to 2:00.  Luke and I joined them for the last two hours.  We would been on time but we had a little incident.  

Here’s some of my observations along with a few ’supposes’…

1.  Saw a lot of interesting people come through Wal-mart’s door but only maybe one who qualifies for this.

2.  Most people tend to avoid looking at you. We weren’t soliciting, just standing there.  Maybe they felt guilty.  Perhaps if you turn your eyes to the needs of the poor, they might go away.  I know I’ve done that.  I’d say 90% avoided eye-contact.  Interesting to me.  Convicting.

3. Kids look.  Maybe it’s because two sharp-looking little boys in uniforms were there but I bet 90% or maybe even 100% of the kids looked at the barrel and us standing there.  After what I saw if I was ever with my boys, even if I had given before, I’d a take a bag.  What a great lesson to teach your kids especially in the season of getting…  I mean giving!   Kids notice without making judgments.  We judge.  We are hardened.  We decide if someone really needs ‘a handout’.  I know my kids notice.  First time they saw a homeless person they asked why they didn’t have a home and why they needed food.  I want to be a giving person but I certainly want to practice it in front my kids too and explain why and how blessed we are.  Let them know that many people even in America go hungry and we can help.

3.  The bags are a great idea but perhaps intimating. Maybe some might think, ‘I can’t fill a whole bag’.  Kirk pointed out that if everyone just bought one item they would have gotten tons.

4.  People who had given before tend to let you know. I heard, “I did this yesterday” a lot.    I smiled and thanked them.  I didn’t feel like they were bragging I think they wanted to let us know they cared about what we cared about.

5. People surprise you. One family came back to get two more bags.  After checking out they dropped their bags off.  They had filled 4 grocery bags.  All that was left in their cart was one bag of dog food.  I saw the Wal-mart worker checking their receipt (I thought they only did that at Sam’s) and wondering where all the stuff they had purchased was.

6.  I wrote before that Luke and Ethan get a badge over this but that wasn’t the motivation. When Luke got antsy (who could blame him), I simply said, “Just a little bit longer, bud.  Think of how some family might not go hungry this Thanksgiving because you gave out one more bag.”   He’d straightened up, look toward the front door and hold up his bag for anyone who wanted to give.    In fact, when I posed the idea to Luke last week as I drove him to school, once I explained what the food bank was and how it helped people, he jumped at the opportunity.  I was proud of him.

I have always associated Shingles as an old person’s disease.  I guess I an officially old because I have them.

It started out about a week and half ago.  I had these incredibly itchy sores on my right neck.  I had shaved my head the night before so i thought I just cut my neck or had an ingrown hair.  But the pain never went away and I just tried some topical ointments.   Even though maybe some parasite was living inside my neck trying to eat my brain cell.   It got worse… burning or like needles in my neck.

Friday night we were babysitting our neighbors kids.  They (the parents not the kids) happen to be nurses so I had Jennifer look at my neck.  She called back and said she thought it was Shingles and asked if I’d come down and let John look at.  John is the practicing nurse.

Shingles.   I really didn’t know what they were so John fills me in.  It’s like something out of a science fiction novel.  It’s the same virus as Chicken Pox.  In fact that sucker never leaves the body but lies dormant in the nervous system waiting to come out.  So its been in my body for 45 years since I had Chicken Pox as a baby!!!   Is that freaky or what? Usually it comes out because of stress or when your immune system is down.  BINGO!  I had the flu right before the outbreak.  (Not sure if it was H1N1 but might have been.)

So John prescribed me some medicine to help prevent it from spreading.  This is also science fiction in that it hooks up with other cells and gives them the DNA to spread….  or something like that.  I really didn’t catch it all because when John was describing, I was freaking out because it was a little parasite eating my nervous system.

So here I am in major pain.  (John also prescribed me some heavy pain killers.)  Sometimes I just want to scream and have Robin cut my head off at the neck.

I was out of town last night but when I got home Robin relayed this event to me…

Jack – who is deathly afraid of storms especially after the tornados we had in the area in June – was on the deck with Robin & Drew last night.  There was a dark cloud – no storm – in the distance.  Jack frantically yelled at Robin and Drew to get in the house.  As Drew was walking in, I guess he wasn’t moving to the speed of Jack’s paranoia so he pushed him.  That of course set Drew off.

In the midst of two boys screaming and yelling, Jack said “Drew I didn’t want you to get hit by the lightening.  I was trying to make you safe.  You know I am going to be a policeman when I grow up.”

Jack (joyfully upon seeing two African-American men in the Wendy’s parking lot yesterday): “Look mom! Africans!”

Note: Jack is 4 years old, he is without guile, we spent a month in Africa this summer and we live in Colorado with few African-Americans.

You can click here to read our August letter. You can download a copy or red on-line if you prefer.  We highlight our past month in South Africa – mostly from Robin’s POV.

Drew: Dad, does Mom know how to make pancakes?

Me: Yeah.

Drew: Did you teach her?

It’s Robin’s (first) 39th Birthday today.

I am so blessed to have her as my wife.

Words I think of when I think of Robin…

Lovely

Beautiful

Kind

Tender

Compassionate

Servant-hearted

Hardworking

Loyal

Faithful

Generous

Patient

Honest

Open

Funny

She is a treasure, a good gift from the Lord.  I am deeply in love with her and can’t believe how blessed I am.

Happy Birthday, Love.

Yesterday afternoon (Sat), Robin, the boys and I piled in the ‘bucky’  (pick-up truck) and drove a few clicks (km) down the road to Roodeplaat Nature Reserve.    It’s really close to Louis & Erika’s where we are staying. 

Fun little drive without the Big 5but also only cost us about $3.  We saw wart hogs, a lot of exotic birds, zebras, spring bok, water bucks (or boks, not sure), and kudu.  At first, we thought there were only art hogs but evidence (dung) said otherwise and sure enough we saw zebra and later  on the other game. 

I figured the game had to be small since there were walking trails but its Africa so you never know.  Robin and I would have loved to walk more but the boys were having none of that.   Then I started walking to get a better few of a herd of zebra.   Jack followed, then Luke.   We most likely could have walked more but I realized I was so excited about scouting game that I had left the keys in the bucky with the door open.   Realizing it could have been a diversary tactic and another zebra was waiting to hijack the bucky and drive to Kruger, I doubled-back.  Sure enough another smaller herd was scoping the bucky out but I outsmarted them.

Robin even drove for the first time in South Africa as she drove home.  All in all a good little time… until we came home and fights broke out among Jack and Drew.  Not sure over what, maybe looked at each other.     Moral – look at game but not your brother.