I filled my empty water bottle at a fountain and settled in with book and journal and iPod.
The flight was not quite even a quarter full. We could pretty much sit anywhere we liked, due to this -- in fact, they had people spread out over the plane as the seating as booked was front-heavy. I found a row near the back and enjoyed my view, and also Memory and thoughts of technical improvements to LJ. (Two things I would like: keyword-based automatic comment screening to be set by journal owner or community maintainer, to be used to combat spam, help keep personal information from being innocently shared, to create profanity filtering if so desired, and probably much more; and disemvoweling, the removal of vowels from selected comments at the discretion of the journal owner or maintainer -- an alternative to deleting or screening, pioneered by the good folks over at Making Light -- it would, of course, need a note similar to the edited note, that the comment had been disemvoweled.)
We made good time. I arrived at the Burbank airport. A little bird told me that it would be a good idea to use the bathroom now, rather than later. This turned out to be dead-on (practical precognition is composed of, among other things, common sense and pattern recognition) as the expected ride had not materialized yet, and did not for an hour. I eventually coerced my mostly-defunct cellphone (the prepaid one went AWOL, probably somewhere in Vash) to make prepaid calls, and called Guide Dog Aunt to touch base. Guide Dog Uncle materialized shortly, in rental car, with cousin and a dude who I did not recognize, who turned out to evidently be the pilot.
The park was located, and the end of the park at which we were at was also located. It was a Sunday, so the park was filling up. Guide Dog Aunt was there, and the other cousin, and Aunt-Fayoumis, though Uncle-Fayoumis was not (crowds are not his scene). Uncle Davy, the infamous Uncle Davy, was there, as were some unspecified other relations. There was an ice run, made by the three old hens. (We menfolks stayed behind with our books.) (I'm counting myself amongst the menfolks for administrative purposes, as I didn't go on the ice run and had brought two books.) The hit snack food of the moment was the baguettes and the hummus dip, around which we vultured.
Guide Dog Aunt detailed us to make directional signs indicating the event and relative location. This occurred. She had brought some very bright poster board, in a near-rainbow of different interesting neon colors. She had also brought crayons in a little tin. (I remember those crayons. Mama had some for us.) By the time we had enough signage, we had also collected some of Uncle Davy's grandchildren, the oldest of which seemed to be about three. Fortunately, there was leftover poster board. (Their moms didn't know that the crayons were as badly hand-stainy as they actually are, ha ha.) Many drawings of Transformers ensued, including an appalling (original, I think) bad guy Transformer who turns into a house, but if anyone goes in him, he Transforms back and crushes them.
I had thought that we had acquired a full complement of relatives. No. More relatives poured out of the woodwork, to the point where I couldn't keep half-track of them all. Highlights included spintherism attempting to stack watermelons (the words "splatter radius" were involved, but did not transpire) and the little ones trying to beat up balloons, follow strangers home, walk into bathrooms, and tear off Uncle Davy's face. (He has a walrus mustache and a short growth of beard, maybe a week or two along if not deliberately pruned that close.) I got photos and in some instances video clips. I made a voice post.
I wasn't prepared for when one of the cousins (children of Grandma's siblings) shoved a phone at me as things were breaking down. Dad was on the other end, though. I handed the phone over to another cousin fairly shortly, and got to hear half a conversation about Dad's 4th of July experience one year that involved a calf pie.
I got some of the smaller signs. They fit, rolled up, in my bag. We looked at the house that now stands where Grandma's used to. We may not have reason to come back to Glendale again. It's a little woeful, that.
I got dropped off at the airport and got myself a boarding pass. US Airways did something funky with the round trip vs. web checkin. I zipped through security again, same empty water bottle going through and full water bottle after the first drinking fountain, and settled in with iPod and book. (Familiar!)
The flight back was crowded. At first I tried to read, then, as my eyes were spontaneously crossing, tried to doze. There was a woman across the aisle and behind from me who had a small daughter who had the most delightful curiosity about the world. That was interesting. We flew through clouds that were being lit up from the inside by lightning. That was also interesting. Then there was interesting weather around Phoenix. Fortunately, after the captain told us that we'd been stuck in a holding pattern and to expect another half-hour in the air, we got clearance to land. After we were down, I complimented the woman on her good job with the kid in general, because the world does not reward good parenting half enough.
I let Myrrh know that I was down and what door I was at. Phoenix was actively muggy. Then I came home, and very quickly crashed.