Dubuque Diary – Getting There

It’s been a long and hectic week. When I arranged my flight, departing Washington National Airport at 8:57 am on Thursday, I completely disregarded that this would put me smack in the morning rush hour. And the weathermen were calling for snow, during the commute. I figured I’d need to get up at 5am, to leave by 6am, to arrive at the airport by 7am. The only problem was, it was already 3am and my work/packing/preparation seemed far from finished.

(look here for pictures, more to come each day)

Zoom forward, happy ending (start), I woke up on time, there was no snow, and the traffic didn’t keep me from making my flight. Once I was happily secure in my seat, I was able to enjoy two needed hours of sleep on my way to Chicago.

Quick turnaround in Chicago, to catch my flight to Dubuque. Why am I going to Dubuque? Well, my recent compusive hobby of genealogy has revealed that there is a branch of my family tree in Dubuque that I didn’t know existed just six months ago. Combined with the urge to participate in this election in a more hands on manner, rather than just watch it on TV from home, well… Dubuque just called out to me, and I answered.

An interesting pair of passengers sits just in front of me on our small plane. One, a young man who couldn’t be much older than 19 or 20, wearing his desert fatigues, and obviously going home. The other, a more grizzled looking old man, hearing aids, glasses, beard, wearing a green military jackets and a hat that says ‘Swift Boats Vietnam’ that has a ‘Veterans for Kerry’ pin on it. I don’t mean to snoop, but it’s hard not to catch snippets. The young man says he’s based just 15 miles from where Saddam was captured, and that he’s looking forward to a 15-day break. His leave doesn’t actually start until midnight that night, so his travel from Iraq to Dubuque isn’t taking away from his leave time. He mentions that on the previous leg of his flight, the pilot came back and bumped him up to an empty seat in first class. I like that pilot.

The older vet is obviously going to Iowa for the same reason I am, to work for a candidate to try and replace the current Commander-in-Chief who sent this young man abroad. But they don’t talk politics. The talk military life, vet to vet, food, letters, leave. When we arrive, the old vet tells the younger one that he’ll stand up and block the aisle so he can leave unhindered. With the few people on the flight, it’s an unnecessary but kind gesture.

Dubuque is a very small terminal, and Bev and Ken Foell don’t have any problem recognizing me. I grab my bag and we load up in their car.

Stay tuned, more to come.

Chris