Training - Florida Training Camp - The Trip Home

We spent the last day traveling, waiting, and traveling some more.

The prior evening I packed the bike under Pap's watchful eyes. He's been teaching me how to fly on the Flight Simulator (he can't fly himself for real anymore). He even taught me the basics of flying a 737, which, coincidentally, would be the type of plane we'd be taking home. We did some autopilot stuff, trim stuff, and then we came in for a landing. I came in a bit low but didn't wipe out on landing.

Good thing, right?

Anyway, he sat and watched me pack up my bike, and Haley joined us too. Pap commented on this and that, reminded me not to forget my wrenches, nor my bottles, nor my helmet (all of which I almost forgot).

Actually I was trying to set a base up so I could return without bringing too much stuff but I failed. Okay, maybe not, but I could think of worse places to train.

We returned our rental car, waited a bit, got a shuttle to the airport, waited a bit more.

In line for checking luggage I heard the typical murmurs behind us.

"I don't know, it's a real big bag. What do you think it is?"

Finally someone piped up.

"Excuse me, excuse me! Sir! Excuse me. Could you tell me what you have in that bag?"

"A bike. Like a bicycle bike."

"Oh."

I could hear disappointment. It became clear why in the next couple seconds.

"We thought it was a harp."

Harp?

The missus and I started chuckling.

But then I thought, hm. Maybe next time I can avoid the bike bag fee by saying it's a harp...

Of course, it's not worth it on Southwest since the bike costs only $50 to fly (and I can check another bag for free), but for those of you on $175-per-bike flights...

After the harp incident we sat down for an early lunch. I took the opportunity to imbibe a bit - a nice Chili's margarita at 11 in the morning. Hey, look, I'm on vacation. My diet took yet another hit with that drink so I just had a bowl of soup.

My calories kept adding up, ditto my grams of fat. I'd been having consistent 2300-2400 calorie days, well over my target 1800, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

I started dreading the morning weigh-in at home.

The margarita had the pleasant effect of making the flight go by pretty quickly. It helps if you fall asleep before reaching cruising altitude.

Not that I'm condoning using alcohol use, but I felt pretty refreshed when I woke up.

We landed pretty hard, and I know that because of my extensive experience flying 737s on the Flight Simulator. Actually, seriously, we did seem to come in high and set down kind of fast. We almost overshot our taxiway too, so I stand by my statement that we came in kinda high and fast.

(Of course, if it had been the game, I'd have seen the red and white lights indicating high or low.)

We got home okay, looking forward to seeing the kitties. I clambered up the stairs with the bike bag, opened the door.

Bella was there, looking, but I must have looked like an alien to her.

Her fur fuzzed and she ran away.

She came back after I made a few trips, and within a few minutes she'd calmed down.

Bella, less fuzzed and more relaxed, on the bike bag.

We were home.

Bonus?

The next morning, I weighed myself.

I was half a pound lighter than when I left.

Booyah!