More about Mears Transportation to Doubletree

In an earlier post I mentioned I planned to take Mears Transportation from the Orlando Airport to the Orlando Doubletree Universal for the NMA reunion. Having now arrived, I can see the process was a breeze, and will add these few details:

A shuttle train will take you the baggage and ground transportation area. It's an easy, short ride.

You'll detrain at Level 3. You'll have to work your way down to Level 1 for ground transportation.  No problem.

Check in at the Mears desk. If you don't have a reservation (I did) you can get a ticket there. The clerk will direct you to the outside departure area.

A dispatcher in the departure area took my ticket, gave me an electronic hockey puck which would beep and light up when my shuttle van came. Vehicles came and went, and in about six minutes, my hockey puck signaled that my van had arrived. I turned in my puck and hopped aboard.

There were three fares with three destinations. As advertised, they'd grouped nearby destinations together. I was the last dropoff, and the entire trip was about 40 minutes.

Considering that traffic was slowed by a tropical storm that was hammering Orlando, that was good. It seem likely your trip could be shorter.

If you want more boring details you can read that earlier post. Or make a reservation on line, as I did, at http://www.mearstransportation.com/

The Daily Poop - Sun., 22JUN12 - Final Issue

I plan to wake up in Orlando tomorrow morning. That will begin a week of LiveBlogging the NMA reunion. Okay, it doesn't officially start until Wednesday, but who doesn't love two days of photos of empty ballrooms and florid descriptions of the intolerable temperatures outside? It worked in San Antonio, it'll work here.

That's the plan. However, my plane leaves Moline, IL at 1300, and the weatherman is calling for showers and thunderstorms this morning. I have a layover in Detroit and leave there at 1730, where showers and thunderstorms are expected at that time. Arrival in Orlando is scheduled for 2030, where, again, showers and thunderstorms are on the menu.

And I just heard th-th-thunder. One little, distant, brief flamadiddle. But I'm worried.

Well, one way or the other, I'll get to Orlando.

And I hope you will, too. If you're still undecided--and a few of us are, juggling schedules, commitments, have-tos and want-tos--keep in mind that you're not getting any younger and the future isn't getting any longer. The NMA reunions are a tremendous way to celebrate an important part of our lives. Every one of us has offered our lives and skills to our country in hopes of building a better world; it was a noble investment, and it's fitting that we share the interest with each other.

For those who must stay home, keep in touch. LiveBlogging the reunions means I see all comments shortly after they arrive here at NavyLyres. Your input is of great value--it proves that somebody is paying attention.

And so, weather willing and the planes run roughly on time, I'll be back tomorrow with the new, improved NMA Reunion LiveBlog 2012, which will bear great resemblance, I'm sure, to it's earlier, unimproved predecessors.

Time has come to a standstill

I just finished working my shift at the local library, my last shift before I leave for Orlando tomorrow. It was only 5 hours long, but felt like 50. Now, it's late afternoon, my flight doesn't leave for another 22 1/2 hours, and I have a slight case of the stir-crazies.. 
 
I've experienced this before, and I'll bet you have, too. It's the "Picked up my leave papers, but can't leave yet" syndrome.

It was bad enough if you were driving. You'd finished your last gig, you had your leave papers and you had a full tank of gas, but leave didn't technically begin until midnight. You had three choices:

1. Wait.
2. Split early and count on not getting caught.
3. Get hammered.

 At various times over the years, I employed all three. Once, I combined #s 2 and 3 on a five hour drive from Little Creek to New York that took 14 hours because I fell asleep in the rest area on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel. 

 But it was worse when you were flying. Your duties were wrapped up, you had your leave papers and you had your plane tickets, so, #2 above, "Split early and count on not getting caught" was not an option. You were stuck with:

1. Wait.
2. Get hammered.

Number one could be employed alone or in conjunction with #2, my usual modus operandi. I no longer practice #2, however, so I'm stuck with #1.

Okay, that killed ten minutes. What do I do now?

The Daily Poop - Sat., 23JUN12

So, I finally heard back from Lee Hudson about his NMA reunion plans. He just got back from performing a whirlwind tour of Europe. (Seems to me that a tour with Hudson shouldn't be described with the word "whirlwind"; more like "miasma" or "fetid.")

Anyway, Lee is busy wrapping up some college duties, preparing for others. The bottom line on whether or not he'll come: maybe.

Just what I need. I could deal with a "yes"--I'd mentally hope for the best and expect the worst. I could deal with a "no"--I'd sing a chorus of "Happy Days are Here Again" and order a truckload of Champagne to be delivered to the Orlando Doubletree Universal next Wednesday.
Instead, I get a "maybe." Reminds me of the old joke:

Question: How do you keep a turkey in suspense?
Answer:    

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Tomorrow, I leave for Orlando. I hope. I'm a nervous traveler, so any hint of weather-related flight delays ramps up my worry-level. There's a chance of showers and thunderstorms tomorrow, so who knows? I just want to wake up on Monday in Orlando

---

Speaking of which, what do you call sunrise in the the fanciest part of that city?

"Tony Orlando at Dawn."

Thank you. Have a nice day.

The Daily Poop - Fri., 22JUN12

Yesterday, NMA member Dave Czohara of The Villages, FL, informed me that a reporter from the Orlando Sentinel has been reading this blog and wanted to talk to me about the NMA reunion. We set up a phone interview, and I spoke with her.
I've always been such a disappointment to women. After a few minutes it became obvious she'd been expecting me to be a middle-aged raconteur who spewed punchlines faster than she could write them down instead of a befuddled sixty-three year old codger who can barely make it to the bathroom before having an accident. Shipmates in the Orlando area, keep an eye out for Christine Cole's story in the Sentinel about the reunion. If it stinks, complain to Czohara. If its good: thank you.

---

I am sorry to hear that Tom Wholley won't be in attendance this year. Tom and I crossed paths a number of times, in Newport, Little Creek and the Seventh Fleet as well as at our annual get-togethers.

---

I still haven't heard whether Lee Hudson is planning to light up my life by showing up in Orlando. I figured slandering him across the internet would flush him out, but no. Guess I'll have to actually contact him. Sheesh.

My annual 30 seconds of serious reflection

I drag this one out of mothballs every spring because it still fits.
--------------------------------

I found sea duty difficult.

As the band's chief, I was the referee of a Texas cage match among sixteen professional wrestlers.

I was the marriage counselor for the sax player who got the bad letter from his wife.

I was trip planner who had to beg a surly coxswain for the admiral's barge so the band would be ashore in time for the concert.

I was the guy who sucked up to the laundry petty officer so the trio would have clean whites for the captain's reception.

I was the whipping boy for the MCPOC who hated the band and would have reamed out my boys if I didn't let him unleash his temper on me.

I was nursemaid, babysitter, tour director and music theory teacher.

Sometimes I was even the chaplain, the shepherd who brought comfort to the desolate.

And when I got the call in the Indian Ocean that my father was dying, my boys brought the same to me.

At times, I wanted to crawl into the nearest empty locker and hold my breath until the cruise was over.

And there were times I felt sorry for everyone in the world who was not, at that very moment, on a ship of the United States Navy in the Indian Ocean conducting this ragtag, 16-piece bagband through "Anchors Aweigh" during unreps.

Most people, despite their love of country and their respect for our service, cannot understand this.

You, my shipmates, understand.

See you next week in Orlando.
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