MFR-PHX

I still remember the first time I rode in a plane with my father. It was part of a family vacation. We boarded a United Airlines 727 at Rochester "International" Airport and few to Chicago O'Hare. From there we hopped onto a DC-10 and flew to Hawaii. I was 21 years old.

For much of my childhood, I was quite put out that I had never been on an airplane. But with the wisdom of adulthood, I see the wisdom in his ways.

Our trip from Oregon to Arizona went off about as good as could be hoped for, which is to say it was excruciating. Nate and Will were actually pretty good on the plane, with the exception of a screaming fit as we were trying to board. But small children and air travel just don't mix. And small planes... those don't mix either.

Once again I am forced to curse the people who invented the regional jet. It's increased use on longer and longer routes has only helped make the unpleasant experience much more unpleasant. The problem is the size of the seats. They're just too small. If you're taller than 5' 2", you won't fit into those seats. Add a lap child, and the misery is compounded.

I had promised myself that, after I moved from Medford, I would only live in cities served by full sized jets (737 or larger). But there's no escaping these little terrors of the sky. On Monday, I'm flying from Phoenix to Los Angeles: two of the largest cities in the United States. I'll be flying on one of those nasty regional jets.

But I'd rather light a candle than curse the darkness (actually I'm quite fond of cursing the darkness, but that's another issue). On Monday that nasty regional jet will be taking me to Los Angeles. I'll visit some of my former teachers at my old school, and then take in some local theater. I miss Los Angeles every day and I'm happy I get to see it for a few days before heading off to Turkey.

I'll check in from LA if I can and let you know if I got my picture taken with Pee Wee Herman (it could happen... really).