I’m in Spanish Fort, Alabama tonight for a day of training tomorrow. It feels good to be back to a place where I once lived 30 years ago.
I’ve written about my old homes here before, so some of y’all will be familiar with it. On my last trip I hoped to take pictures of my old homes. Unfortunately, the dime-store film camera I bought for the job didn’t offer enough firepower for the fading light of day. This time, though, I packed my Nikon D50 and got some successful shots tonight, more of which I hope to get in the morning.
The flight from RDU to PNS on AirTran was really a gamble. I was initially booked for a late-night arrival to Pensacola (actually arriving about now), but I figured I’d try my luck at an earlier flight. The gamble is that everyone at the airline told me the last leg was oversold with a 5-person waiting list and there was no way I would get here early. The flight out of Raleigh at 2PM was a breeze to get on and arrived at Atlanta over 30 minutes early. I simply had to walk down a few gates, present myself at the Pensacola gate, and boom, I got a seat. That’s how I managed to get to Spanish Fort before the sun went down.
I don’t fly AirTran too often, but I do like the XM Satellite Radio at every seat. I don’t really like the seats themselves, however. My backside was actually feeling sore after the flights. They could use more padding in the seat cushions. The pilots didn’t help matters, either, since both landings were a little harsher than I’m used to. Even the Chinese pilots of Air China flew far better than this: smoothly kissing the runway to the point I couldn’t even tell we had touched down.
Speaking of China, I’m in the Spanish Fort Holiday Inn Express now and found it funny that the last Holiday Inn I was in was in Beijing. Its a long way from there to here.
The Forbidden City in Beijing has its own Starbucks, hidden from view but definitely detectable from all the coffee cups being waved around. Spanish Fort, however, does not yet have its own Starbucks…yet! Its getting its first soon at the mall across the street, joining Bed Bath And Beyond, Best Buy, Ross, World Market, and a handful of other Cary-like stores. I find it easier to believe Starbucks is in the Forbidden City than I do Spanish Fort.
I sat next to a pleasant older woman on the plane to Pensacola with whom I exchanged some friendly words. As I waited for my bag, she walked by arm-in-arm with her husband. This guy turned my head because he was the spitting image of my long-deceased maternal grandfather: same height, same gait, same hair pattern.Same facial features, even. If he’d been wearing glasses it would’ve been perfect. As if being in Florida again (even briefly) wasn’t enough to make me miss my grandparents, that certainly did.
This place just makes me want to write. I don’t know why that is. Perhaps its the colorful reminders of the history here. My old neighborhood is filled with street names like Cavalry Charge, Smuggler’s Gap, Southern Way, Confederate Boulevard: names that fire a young boy’s imagination. Even thirty years later there’s a sense of mystery here.
Ah well. I’ve got a good book to read, Bill Bryson’s The Life And Times Of The Thunderbolt Kid, so I’ll cut short my own reminiscing in favor of Bill’s. Good night!