Gas Pains

Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.

Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.

Six Degrees of Separation

Gas Pains, Travel, Random Musings and Idle Chit Chat, Crailsheim Germany,

It has been hypothesized that there are only six degrees of separation between one of us and everyone else that inhabits our fragile satellite in the vast galaxy of the Milky Way.

Microsoft has evidence to support this theory.

And I have evidence to support it as well.  Although it is very unscientific and anecdotal.

Jill and I were traveling recently and had occasion to make an airline connection in Memphis, TN.

For anybody that doesn’t already know this Jill has been off her feet with a broken leg for a month.  Without being able to put weight upon that leg she has been spinning about the house in a borrowed wheelchair, hopping-about with a couple of borrowed walkers and otherwise coping. 

Traveling to visit the kids and that new grandbaby has been a challenge. It has also had a curious compensation.  Although maybe revelation is a better term.

First-off I want to tell you that if your spouse is disabled you need to do one thing for sure. 

Having failed to do so - I suggest obtaining a temporary disability parking permit.

Without this you will be reminded on almost a daily basis of all sorts of challenges which will make you sympathetic of people with disabilities.  Without it you will learn that dropping-off and picking-up involves varying degrees of difficulty and crutch-walking. Practically-speaking, when meeting an airline departure this can become critically important.

Getting back to the Memphis connection.

We arrived for a connection to our destination and the Sky Cap met us at the jet way to wheel Jill to the gate for our connecting flight.

It was a bit of a hike so the three of us struck-up a conversation.

We stopped along the way so Jill could visit the ladies room.

Marvin the Sky Cap says to me – Ya’ll have a German name.  I spent me some time in Germany.

I'm thinking this is interesting.  So did I.   Were you in the service? 

I sure was. Best times of my life.

When were you there?  Where were you stationed?

With this the gregarious Sky Cap launches into some pretty good German phraseology – better then my own.

Repeating himself - Oh, yes. I was in the service.

This was followed by an additional performance of German lingua franca (again, far superior to mine) and a recall of Lowenbrau beer in stone-top bottles available for 25 cents. Including an explanation of what he did, his interaction with the locals, how much they had to compensate a farmer for hitting a cow with an armored vehicle. You name it.

So I asked Marvin – Where the heck were you posted?

Stuttgart and Crailsheim.

No kidding!  Do you know anything about Camp McKee?

Yessir.  I was there.

Small world.

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