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January 3, 2001 |
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I could tell you many things about today. I suppose that the one that sits
most immediate in my mind is that Pam is flying back
to Seattle today. Normally, I would've scheduled the same flight back.
Originally, she would not have had the vacation time, however, since her
company had run out of money, she would have considerable more time. She
still chose to fly back as scheduled.
Fred had still made these amazing
breakfasts and today was no exception. He really is a wonderful host, I'll
never fault him for that… what I was a little worried about is
the timing. I had never driven to Fort Lauderdale International Airport
from Palm Beach and I tend to play it cautiously. Still we had two hours
until her flight departed, the airport is maybe about an hour away. Life
is good.
Okay, maybe life is not that easy… You see, tonight would be the
Orange Bowl. No, I'm not merely referring to the building where
the football games are played, I'm referring to the actual bowl game that
decides the college football national championship. Yeah, that
Orange Bowl… Tonight's Orange Bowl. The one that is a mere
twenty miles or so away.
Most of the trip to the airport was fine actually, until we got to about
three miles away. Then it started getting nasty. I'm not sure if walking
there would've been faster, though it probably wouldn't have been a good
idea, particularly if you consider that we were still on the freeway. We
waited in the parking lot convieniently labelled I-595 and hoped that we
would make it to the terminal on time. We watched precious minutes tick
away. I wanted to see her off at the gate, but that would take additional
minutes in parking and traversing the parking lot, minutes which we didn't
have. We concluded that I would have to drop her off at the terminals.
I maneuvered through the traffic and managed to drop her off with about
thirty minutes to go. With some luck she can still get checked in and make
her flight. As I drove off, I realized that dropping her off like this
really didn't sit well with me. I might still manage to see her
off. I veered off into one of the parking lots. Amazingly enough, I'm not
very familiar with this airport. Well, I'm not familiar with
parking at this airport since I'm either picked up, dropped off,
or renting a car. I had little idea which part of the lot would be closer
to her terminal. I just parked in the first available spot and ran towards
the terminal.
Another problem with airports and flights was the flight to gate system. I
understand that every airline and airport wants the flexibility to change
the gate during the last minutes, however, the fact that having the flight
number does not really give you a good indication where to go is really a
bit of an irritant. Yes, I realize that they're posted, but that doesn't
really make it convienient, especially when you're in a hurry. It is
almost like a phone system where you had to look up your friend's phone
number everyday since it could change from day to day. So I
sprinted to the USAirways desk and looked up the gate number. E5. That
was easy enough, now to run towards the concourse.
As I'm running towards the concourse, my cell phone rings. No,
really! So I slow down to a jog and answer my phone. It was
Pam. She was starting to tell me goodbye on the
phone when I asked her where she was. She was at the gate. I told her to
hold on and I would be there in a few minutes… and I was, out of breath
and a little sweaty, but I was there.
We spent a few minutes while her flight started to board. I'm glad that I
got a chance to see her off this way, especially in light of how we spent
New Year's Day. We never did get her
that souvenir. I guess we'll just have to come back.
I took a brisk drive back to Aileen's. I was finally able to speed past 85 mph. I suppose that I'm a man of relatively simple pleasures… Driving fast just happens to be one of them. I'm not sure why really. Maybe it's a sense of freedom or a sense of danger, though truth be told, I don't drive recklessly, just fast. I won't say that I don't have other things I enjoy, but anything that require props fails the description of simple. For instance, roller skating in a supermarket wearing a Superman costume; that does not qualify as simple.
I had plans tonight to drive to Terry's place to visit my mom. Aileen would come along as well, since it's her mom too. Funny how that works among siblings, although admittedly we sometimes use the expressions your mother or your sister for fun.
Okay, now there's the issue with the beef tongue. Yes, I know you're going to have a hard time believing this one. It would appear that many many people in my family are stressing over beef tongue. First, a bit of history… I like my mom's beef tongue stew. It is among one of my favorite dishes. When I planned my trip down to Florida, my mom asked if there was anything she could do for me, to which I replied: "Prepare beef tongue stew." I really didn't think it would become so much of an ordeal.
It would appear that among Latin-American folk, whose population is heavy in South Florida, this is also a bit of a traditional dish during the holidays. This made finding one a bit of a task, enough so that both of my sisters were helping out my mom in attempts to find one, searching in local butcher shops and groceries. They had even made a list of them among two counties and crossing them off one by one. At one point, they had ordered one and it didn't come in on time. Like I said, it was a bit of an ordeal. It also created some tension between my two sisters. All for a beef tongue.
As it happens, when I got back to Aileen's she had managed to find one and had already started cooking it. Coincidentally, my mom had managed to track one down that same day, although we didn't know it at the time, but we had worked it all out by the time we started our trip down. Pragmatically, it is simply a piece of meat, so one might wonder why it had all become so important. If you take it into perspective, it was something, possibly the only thing in her mind, that my mom would be able to do for me. That compounded by the fact that I wasn't staying with her on this trip and the idea that there may not be many more opportunities to do this anymore, made this particular dish very important to my mom. Frankly, it also made it important to me.
Over the years and over the many differences that we have endured, I suppose that I've seen my mom of somewhat of a product of the Chinese community. Admittedly, I saw her devotion to her kids as somewhat of a cultural duty. I didn't really know how the idea of introducing Pam to my family would pan out, particularly not with my mom. To be honest, I was touched by how she treated Pam with open arms, and she was able to put some of her cultural biases aside.
My mom may not be perfect. Even after many years in the states, she still struggles with English. There are many things about my life which she could never hope to understand. She still has many biases based on the Chinese community in which she lives in. Oftentimes, her efforts are misplaced, and I suppose that's what I've always focused on in the past. The concept that had always eluded me was her motivation. She loves me. She will do what she can to make me happy and protect me. I reflected back on all the little differences we had endured over the years and no matter how bad things might've gotten, I realized that she always did what she thought would be best for me, and over all the pity little arguments, I can't fault her for that. For possibly the first time, I can honestly say that I love her too.
And I ate the beef tongue stew.
January 3, 2001