I Found Amelia Earhart!

I'd like to tell you that there were lots of adventures on the trip over, but there weren't - it was just god awful long 19 plus hours in the air in a 26 hour long day. Everything went as planned.

There was one interesting thing that happened during the last leg of the trip which was from Nagoya to Saipan. An older gentleman sat in the seat next to me. I asked him if he was going to Tinian, as he looked of the age that he might have served there, which was indeed the fact.

He told me that he worked loading the B29's and he worked with some of the locals who had been forced conscription by the Japanese. One of these guys told him that he had been on burial duty when they burried an woman American flyer that had been captured and executed - obviously Ameila Erhart and showed him the grave. Nobody believed the old guy until recently, and now a team had been put together to dig up the grave and try and get a genetic sample. Evidentally the Mariana Government wasn't very supportive, but members of the team got the US State Department to put pressure on the Mariana's government to let them exhume the grave.

While the guy was telling me this, another passenger up in first class was watching and not very happy with this guy talking to me, so he came down and moved the guy up to first class. Of course this was after 19 hours up and maybe I dreamed the whole thing. Maybe the guy was making it all up, I didn't believe the Hurricane either when he told me that Denzel Washington
was going to play him. So if something DOES happen, remember you got the scoop here.

Update:
I just had lunch to day, and guess what I didn't imagine it! The story made front news here in Saipan. Have you heard anything back there?

Another letter coming

The Shroud of Tinian

Well here I am in Saipain! Just a simple 24 hours after I left Seattle. I'm in an Internet

Cafe/fishstore/livepoultry store around the corner from my hotel.
Do you bring you up to date. I left Vancouver around noon on Monday. I was the prescribed three hours early, so early in fact that I made the 2:00pm flight instead of the 3:30pm and got picked up and delivered to the "Best Value Motel"

Now here's my question? If it's called the "Best Value Motel" what's the "Least Value" Hotel? A packing grate under and overpass?


Actually it isn't too bad - except for the stain on the sheet. I think it's blood. It's not a big blood stain, just a few drops dribbled out along the top right hand corner. In fact they look strikingly like the Northern Marianas: I can see Guam, Saipan, Rota and even tiny Tinian. It's my own
shroud of Turin, or should I say "Shroud of Tinian?" I wasn't too concerned because it was a king size bed and I could always sleep on the left hand side, except for one thing... There's no nitetable or light on the left hand side. I settle the matter by covering the stain with a taht towel.

Now I know most of you are asking why don't I just ask the Better Value folks just to come up and change the damn thing. Well that would mean I would have to take down the barricade I've erected in front of the door. You see I recently paid a visit to the office to complain about a non-
functioning tv remote control. Rashee, the night guy had already mentioned that he lived a short time in Surrey B.C. before he had to leave rather suddenly.

'No problem, man, I'll come up to your room and reprogram it.' He offered.
'Can't you do it here?' I asked, not wanting Rashee in my room.
'Nah, I need to have the remote and the tv together.'

I seriously consider carry the tv down to the office. About a half hour later Rasheed shows up withmy remote and piece of paper with the programing instructions. He's distracted by the MP3 players on the desk.

'So how much does one of those cost?' he asks. 'I don't know,' I respond, ''We get them free on the show'
I can see the wheels turning inside Rasheed's head.
'Did you get that Epson camera for free too?'
'Yeah, but it's old I say trying to make it seem that it might fetch a good price at the Sport's Bar up the street (Which is for Rasheed, unfortunately closed since a patron decided to turn it into a drive thru the night before.)

Rasheed finished programming my remote, tosses it on the bed , and with one final apraising look around the room leaves. That's when I decided to erect the barricade in front of the door with the heaviest object I could find, which according to the airlines, is my luggage.
Everything was still in tact in the morning when I left for the airport to begin the 24 hour saga to Saipan.

More next time, the smell of dog and geese is getting to me.

Portents in the Sky

I haven’t even left town yet and already there are portents and signs in the sky that I definitely should rethink this trip. The lunar eclipse earlier in the week must have been a warning. On Friday my daughter Aviva brought home my standby tickets to Saipan. Given that this was her and her husband, Colin’s last night in B.C. (They are moving to Calgary), I should have perhaps looked at the tickets a little more closely. However due to an overabundance of wine, I did not look at them until 6:30am the next morning when I noticed a few discrepancies. First of all they had me leaving Seattle a day earlier, with a day stop over in Tokyo. One of my greatest fears in life (next to rats) is to be trapped at Narita airport: One small Jewish guy who speaks no Japanese, and whose finances will be financially and emotionally drained by an indefinite wait in the land of the rising sun. I mentioned this to someone once and they made a movie about it, called Terminal starring Tom Hank. Not only that, the tickets indicate they are invalid AFTER Nov 8^th – that’s a day BEFORE I leave!! I make a mental note to cut Aviva out of my will.

Well to heck with how early it is in the morning, my daughter screwed up and she’s going to have to fix it. I have no regrets about waking them up this early. Unfortunately (for me) as they are leaving that morning for Calgary, they have disconnected their phones – all except one, Aviva’s cell, which she has conveniently turned off.

Well I can’t go through the whole day with this hanging over my head. There’s nothing else that can be done but go to the airport myself – right away - 6:45am - and straighten this mess out. After all, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

Upon arriving at the NWA ticket booths, I notice there’s only one person wandering around (not unusual for 6:45 on a Saturday morning). Furthermore, I’m not sure if this person is a ticket agent or security guard. And to add to my confusion I’m not sure if this person is a man or a woman. The androgynous nametag “Kelly” isn’t helping either. I take a calculated risk. I sidle up beside the person:

“Sir,” I begin.

Her look tells me I have made a big mistake.

“Step to the other side of the counter, SIR.”

Given the lack of alternatives I press on anyways. I explain that my daughter must have not followed my implicit and exact instructions and I have been issued a defective ticket.

Kelly explains that it is an open ticket and I can travel whenever I want. A few clicks of the computer shows I’m properly listed.

“But it says that the ticket is invalid after Nov 8^th, I point out.

“Nov 8, 2005” Kelly retorts, looking at me like I’m a complete idiot.

“Oh.” It appears that my daughter does know what she’s doing. I thank my lucky stars that their phones were disconnected, or I’d be spitting out even more black feathers.

I leave and head back to the parking lot, where more problems await me. I insert the parking ticket into the machine.

“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”

I insert and withdraw my credit card.

“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”

I insert and withdraw my credit card again.

“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”

I’m about to insert my credit card for the third time, when I happen to glance down and see two receipts in the tray at the bottom of the machine. Obviously I’ve paid TWICE!

I drive out to the automated exit and insert the ticket into the machine.

“Please Drive Forward” the machine states.

I drive forward. Nothing happens. The gate does not open. I back up and try again:

“Please Drive Forward”

Again I drive forward and nothing happens. I try inserting the ticket backwards, upside down; I even try jamming the receipts into the slot. Still nothing. I back out and go to the pay window. I explain what happened to the attendant. I show him my TWO receipts. I pointed out I’ve paid TWICE and I should be allowed to leave. In fact, I should be allowed to leave and come back and leave again if I want.

“Let me see the receipts, “he asks.

I show him the two receipts.

“Let me see your credit card.”

He examines the ticket. He studies the receipts. He scrutinizes my credit card. All the time the lineup behind me is growing.

“You’ll have to pay again,” he states.

“But I already paid twice!”

“These receipts don’t match your credit card. Did you actually see them drop down?”

“No.” I admit. Now some impatient jerk behind me is laying on the horn.

“Someone else must have left them behind. You’ll have to pay me or you can’t leave.”

Now there’s a symphony of horns blaring. I give him my credit card and pay again and leave to a bunch of cheers behind me.

And there’s still seven days to go before I leave Vancouver.