Friday eve 12 March in my quiet home, after delivering Sammie the rescue cat to his caregiver, I blogged a plan for the launch of my Scandinavia/Estonia (ScanEst?) journey: Fly to Washington- Dulles Airport on Sat 13; meet my son coming from State College and join DC college friends for dinner; after leisurely hotel stopover, bid son goodby and check in for Sunday evening flight over North Atlantic to Kobenhavn.
Not to be: I woke up early Saturday with a throbbing molar, and envisioned the unraveling of my intricate travel plan. I was terrified by the image of a pain-drenched 8-hour flight and 16 days in four European capitals seeking emergency dental care instead of absorbing the life and lights of Scandinavia. I began down the dark hallway of imagining an attempt to re-book reservations made over months. Oh the dreadful cost.
In a state of controlled panic, I called and connected with the weekend emergency stand-in for my usual dentist. As he listened and commented, a new light shone on my dilemma: take antibiotics, temporarily control the likely infection, buy a reprieve from the agony.
The plan unfolded: the drugs called in and taken, the Saturday flight rebooked to a 6AM Sunday departure, the balance of the journey salvaged. As I languished on a gray rainy Saturday, head foggy from anti-b’s, aspirin and Tylenol, I understood: I risked a relapse of a raging tooth and gum while tramping my ancestral lands of Northern Europe.
But I rode through the 4AM misty NC gloom to take that brief flight to Dulles, then to wander all day in the cavernous terminal and board the Europe flight on blind faith. In my hours of weary wandering the now-tarnished terminal, I marveled at the multi-colored Babel of the species swirling in that temple of flight. All of us clamor to be transported to a different place. I was able to spend an hour or so with those friends, heading to Ireland the same evening, that I had hoped to see the night before in DC. As I finally board the SAS flight to Europe, disappointment about changed plans melts away, and the tooth pain subsides. As I cruise above the North Atlantic, I lean on the Spirit to carry me East one more time.
So now that the first important step in my ScanEst expedition concludes – with imminent landing at Kobenhavn – I am reminded that travel plans like financial budgets are cloudy dreams until they hit the tarmac. I did want out of my comfort zone, right?
Following the Spirit 