Kanab, Utah, in Late June

June 24, 2024

Mental health:  at least 60% of normal, or “pretty good.”  I’m not sure I’m ready to go through the hassle of a change in my antidepressant meds, although my psychiatrist would be more than glad to help me in that regard.  Today I’m at my daughter’s house in Poway, California.  Getting here was fraught with difficulty.  Because Las Vegas. One hundred ten degrees, Fahrenheit.

My nephew Jon drove me from Billings, Montana, to Kanab, Utah, last week in his Honda pickup, towing his 1956 Airstream.  The first day of the journey Jon drove to Spanish Fork campground, close to Provo, where we spent a pleasant night, interrupted by a train a couple times.  The approximately 10-foot trailer has two beds.  

Jon drove fully twelve hours the first day while I read to him from Julie Schumacher’s book, “Dear Committee Members.”  Made the driving time seem less onerous.  Mark Fryberger recommended the book, and I do too.  Get it from the library.

Second day, we arrived in Kanab, place where my namesake, Daniel Rohrer, was to marry Madi.  Daniel is my sister’s grandson.  Trouble is, Kanab was hot, about 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Did I mention I had Gunther?  You see, Gunther has diabetes and must receive insulin shots twice a day.  No one else was available to administer the insulin.  While we went to Kanab P. flew to San Diego to stay with daughter Clara’s three children while Clara visited her friend in Australia.

It’s complicated, yes.  Staying in Kanab with Gunther was complicated.  My sister, most of my nephews and my niece and their familiars were in Kanab, poised for serious partying, and yes, a wedding.

Gunther is not high maintenance, but he cannot stay in the air conditioned hotel room alone because he barks. (I tried leaving him alone, but I received a telephone call from the hotel management.)

I kept G. with me in the hotel lobby.  I had two of nephew’s mixed drinks one evening, but I couldn’t afford to become confused or rummy whilst caring for the dog.  The revelers soon left G. and me alone.  The pavement was too hot for his paws.  The wedding was outdoors at a beautiful natural location.  I couldn’t risk taking him out into the heat with no way of getting him to a cool place.  I resolved to abandon the plan Jon and I made to drive to San Diego in his truck; I hitched a ride to Las Vegas to catch a flight instead. Me and Gunther. And a suitcase. Stuff to drag all over the airport.

Problem #1.  Got to terminal 3 at Harry Reid in plenty of time.  Checking in, I discovered I’d inadvertently booked the flight in August.  Called P. for advice. Then I cancelled the August reservation.  Booked a 47-minute flight to San Diego on Frontier at about 3 pm. Gunther and I were in good shape.

As the plane slowly taxied at the end of a long line of aircraft, waiting more than an hour for take-off, the Captain announced the fuel temperature was too hot because of the 110-degree air temp.  Couldn’t fly.  We needed to return to the terminal.  (Groans from the passengers. A woman shouted “No!”)

We were hopeful again. The captain told us the fuel could be cooled when mixed with even cooler fuel.  He told us to stick close to the gate.  No visiting the bar and, presumably, drinking too much and missing the flight.  

At the terminal, an hour later, we learned our flight was canceled.  We looked at each others’ sad expressions, but uttered no moans, groans, cries of anguish, nor did we shed visible tears.

Our job:  retrieve our luggage at the carousel, proceed to the ticket counter to rebook.  About sixty of us filed through the airport, then waited patiently for several hours while three agents rebooked us.  I learned the next direct flight to San Diego was scheduled in three days.  Then the ticketing agent brightened.  You could leave for there tonight!

She said I could catch a flight at 1 a.m. to Denver, then transfer to a flight from Denver to San Diego.

I opened the crate so Gunther could hang out with the people waiting in line.  He pooped, to everyone’s delight.

Eventually, it worked out fine, although Frontier seats are v. close together and I’m 6’4” tall.  Frontier managed to fit 40 rows of seats in “economy” class.  These knees of mine kept me awake, pressed against the seat ahead.

While waiting in Denver I needed to get water for Gunther.  $6 for a plastic bottle of water.

Us passengers did have a sense of shared suffering, of camaraderie.  Gunther didn’t pee from the time the initial flight returned to the terminal until we arrived in San Diego.  However, once out on the sidewalk at San Diego, G. peed much wetness and pooped an unusually large amount.

The day I arrived at my daughter’s house P. and I visited the grocery.  Well, I did take a nap before then.  But I melted down at Albertson’s and had to leave the store. On the way to Clara’s I wept silently and my tears dried, itching on my cheeks.