We finally bought tickets to return to Papua New Guinea for our second term with Samaritan Aviation. With missiles flying around the Middle East I was worried ticket prices would go up. They rarely go down, after all. Then again, I’m fortunate to be worried only about ticket prices, and not the actual missiles. Only the Lord knows if we'll actually leave when scheduled, but the tickets are purchased and our tentative return to the field is April 21.
Now we have to start saying our goodbyes since we are leaving for two years. It's not as easy as you'd think since we know people in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Alaska.
So obviously we took a trip to Florida. It was the logical thing to do.
You see, a month ago I found out that my brother Matt and his family were going to be in Florida. This interested me for several reasons. First, I want my kids to know their cousins because cousins are the best friends a kid could want. Your operating systems are genetically coded to work together. And Matt has ten kids so he has plenty of cousins to choose from. But the problem is that they live in Alaska and it's hard to become friends when you never see each other. But Florida is much closer than Alaska. Florida is also a much cheaper destination than Alaska. And finally, Janice seemed eager to go to Florida - unlike Alaska. Trying to get Janice to travel to Alaska is like trying to get a prisoner to volunteer for solitary confinement. It's not impossible but it involves a lot of wrestling, eye gouging, scratching, and shouting and then feelings get hurt and it becomes a whole thing. Plus, the wailing on the airplane is a little embarrassing. But suggesting a trip to Florida is met with only enthusiasm - unless you mention driving there (road-trips give Janice flashbacks to that time we drove to Alaska in a cheap RV).
I told Janice we should drive there. It is marginally cheaper than flying and I have this mental disorder where, no matter how many times I'm proven wrong, I think driving through new states and having adventures will be fun. Janice has no such delusions.
"The van will explode!" She said. "It'll cost more to get it towed than it's worth! And Juliet hates her car seat. She'll cry for two days!"
It's true that driving there from Ohio to Florida would take about two days. Gone are the days when my friends and I would drive through the night, drinking energy drinks (which I blame for my heart issues), eating fake food from gas stations, and making urgent bathroom stops. Traveling with children is different, except for the bathroom stops. But still I thought we could have fun.
"It's not like we're driving through Iran. It's Florida. People drive there all the time." I tried to reason.
But she did have a point. If anything at all broke on the van, it would suddenly make flying the cheaper option. And it didn't take much imagination to see myself standing beside a smoking van on some interstate, shaking my fist at airplanes flying overhead and thinking, "Why didn't I listen to my wife?" Janice would be sitting inside the van, shaking her fist at me, and asking the same question. But I just nodded my head and acted like Janice was being a little unreasonable. She kept pushing her point, which is what she does whenever I act like she's being unreasonable.
"Ok,” Janice said, “I guess we can drive four hour shifts. You take care of the crying baby for four hours while I drive, and then we’ll switch. We'll take turns while we drive for two days."
"I had this great idea," I said, "Why don't we fly to Florida?"
So we flew to Florida for a week, just to say goodbye to some people. Don't pity us too much because we actually enjoyed it quite a bit.
Of course, Elliot got an ear infection the day before we left. This shouldn't have surprised me since our kids always get sick when we are about to use non-refundable tickets. I drove him quickly to anyone who could sign a prescription for antibiotics. They happened to be at an urgent care down the street. In Papua New Guinea, I have a pile of antibiotics in our hallway closet. Here, doctors hide antibiotics behind forms and paperwork and, coincidentally, money. Soon we paid everyone involved enough money and they gave us some magic medicine. We were off to Florida!
We had a direct flight from Cleveland to Sarasota. I had booked tickets on one of those regional airlines that makes all of its revenue from flying people from cold places to Florida, and then reluctantly back again. It’s an easy business strategy - like holding people for ransom. The airline's marketing slogan is, “If you give us some money, we’ll let you see the sun again.” Of course, folks that hold people for ransom have no moral issues with extortion. They lure you in with unreasonably cheap tickets and then, once you bite, they begin tightening the clamps on your wallet. Checked luggage is an extra fee. Carry on luggage is an extra fee. You even have to pay extra to have a person help you check in at the counter, instead of using a kiosk. I’m surprised they let me wear pants that had pockets. Of course, traveling with kids has its perks since diaper bags travel free. Our diaper bag was unusually large and we even had several of them.
Despite all that, we were delighted that within three hours we had gone from sad, gray Ohio to beautiful, sunny Florida.
As I walked out of the airport and into the sunshine I asked Janice, “Why don’t we live here?”
“I can't think of a single good reason,” she said.
“This looks like Australia!” The kids said excitedly. Florida was nearing the end of its dry season and it did indeed look a bit like Cairns, a tropical area of Australia where we would stay sometimes when we needed a break from PNG.
Living in Florida suddenly seemed liked a great idea. I immediately began looking at local properties on Zillow, fueled by the rush of endorphins that come from escaping winter. “Oh...” I said, after looking at some property prices, “That’s why we don’t live here.”
Still, we were there for a week. We could pretend.
We were staying at an Airbnb near Sarasota which is partly owned by my brother, Matt. Matt and his Airbnb tenants have a tumultuous relationship. The customers don't like giving him money, and Matt doesn't like renting them his property. But Matt wants money and the customers want to vacation in Florida, so they tolerate each other. To be fair, every business owner wishes they could make money without customers. Fortunately for Matt, I wasn't a customer since I wasn't paying him anything. Of course, this meant I didn't get the right to complain about anything either, which, admittedly, is a change of pace for me but I thought I could make an exception. The sunshine puts you in a good mood, after all.
My mom and dad were also staying there for a few days so it was great to have a majority of the family in one place at one time. It's a very rare event to have most of the Snader clan in one house, and not because we don't get along. We generally do. The kids swam in the pool until they turned into little red raisins. I grilled chicken and was told that it was "severely undercooked." I blamed my colorblindness, although no one can really see color when they're grilling in the dark. The wives got together and complained about their husbands and found their defects were very similar. Matt and I pointed at our dad and blamed genetics, and he said we were cut out of the will. But he hates paperwork and so I'm taking my chances. At one point we all wandered off to a nearby state park where we saw alligators. We were warned by a shrill, middle aged lady that alligators could eat our children. We politely acted concerned. We ate ice cream, walked through other parks, and generally had a good trip to Florida.
So what's the point to this article? I don't know. I was hoping to have that figured out by now. I think the moral of the story is this: relationships are worth the effort. And that's why I write these dumb little things, to keep you guys involved in our lives. It's worth the effort, I suppose. And maybe you have some land for sale in Florida? It's snowing in Ohio again and I'd be willing to sell a kidney for some sunshine.