I’m sitting on Ronald Reagan International Airport’s ticketing mezzanine. I’m here for a variety of reasons that differ depending on the elevation from which you examine my situation.
Close up, I’m here because I chose to beat the rain on a bike ride in from the city. My plane doesn’t leave until five-something. This city seems intent on redefining the word “muggy” for us all, packing ever-increasing amounts of moister and heat into the air. Oh, and there’s another flood warning, best I made it here early so as to avoid getting cut off by giant puddle formation.
From the middle elevation view you can see that I’ve been a) dealing with an unfortunate COVID infection from July and b) trying to get a visa. I picked up the former after my wife and son went to various places and brought it back. It was otherwise unavoidable since I live with them. But the infection got in the way of me going to get my visa back in July. September was the next available appointment.
The high elevation view allows you to see the whole enchilada. Last spring my wife sat me down and suggested that things were stagnating. Us, life in general, the house: all the things. She wanted to make things spicy again and pulled the spiciest one from the bucket. We’re moving to France.
The last six months have been a whirlwind. We’ve been doing a cocktail of things to get ready. Getting the house ready to sell, selling the house, getting visas, selling all our stuff, selling our cars, transporting the dog, transporting what little remains of our stuff, and of course doing this in the rather dystopian setting that climate change and pandemic have created for this action.
Tess and Aral are already in France, and the dog and I are playing catch up. The list of items that I need to care for at this point seems vanishingly short. I’m uncertain if that’s because the list is, indeed short, or if I’ve just gotten used to it being stupid long and now that it’s shorter it seems easier than it is. Time will tell.
My good friend is going to buy my car from me. I’ve got to ship my bikes and a box of stuff ahead of me. I’ll need my passport and visa. The dog needs her final exam. And then, yes, then we can board the plane to Paris. From there, I’m not sure how we’re doing the last stretch, but I can solve that logistical hurdle later.
So there, now you know why there isn’t a geographically specific immersive “street” view of the Pacific Crest Trail showing up right now. No videos all summer? Yeah, I’ve been hiking in some unremarkable landscapes. Travel guides, trail reviews, and fiction? All that will start up again as soon as this mess is sorted.