March 12, 2011

And every single leg of the flight from Rome to Asheville– except the brief hop from Rome to Munich– was disastrous. Had literally to run the length of O’Hare to make the Asheville flight after late arrival of an 11 hour flight, after waiting for another plane to vacate our gate, after going through the idiotic US Customs ordeal. I was the very last person to board. The gate lady looked at me as though I had been deliberately lounging about. So I dropped sweating into my seat to hear the news that the open luggage door warning light was on, and that would have to be checked, and then there would be paperwork about having it checked, and when the paperwork was done our grounds crew had somehow wandered away . . . . and half an hour later we were still on the tarmac. They gave me the one seat in the plane where I couldn’t stretch my leg, and if I can’t stretch my leg my knee turns into a knot of agony within twenty minutes. I had to stand through the flight, and so I did, the unforeseen pleasure of which was getting to know Andrew, the flight attendant, whose speech has a beautiful, unexpected lift at the end, and who fixes a kind of motorbike in his Chicago apartment in his free time. He trained to be a pilot, but the hours were too much. Naturally my luggage did not get on with me, and seems to have abided in Chicago. The luggage guy at the Asheville airport, David, was trying SO hard to be sympathetic and conciliatory, while I couldn’t get the stony, fed-up set out of my face. Proof of the existence of Satan is that the people who are to blame for our misfortunes are never present when we experience them.

Caught a significant cold in Rome, and spent my first day home achy and feverish, sleeping most of the time. Multiple systems failure. I’m glad it waited until yesterday, when I had nothing to do but sit for hours on end, and then run as though the blue devils were on my heels. Lufthansa is so good; why does United have to be such crap? Is there something about America? I have contemplated why exactly we allow air travel to get more and more expensive while the service gets worse and worse. THAT doesn’t seem very American.

Arrived home to hear a phone message from Alex to say that my studio had been flooded. “It’s pretty devastated,” says he. Though feeling like crap, I went there. I didn’t see any permanent damage, so I restored things to their original positions (Alex had tried to save what he could) and even painted a little. They only time I didn’t feel bad all day was when I worked in the studio.

In any case, I had a better day than Japan.