HML, Volume I, Issue VII - PART II

Iowa is a land of simple settings, simple people and simple values. Never did I think that arriving in Iowa would be so damned difficult. Exiting the plane and entering the terminal of Chicago's massive O'Hare Airport, I looked and felt as though I had been taken hostage by the P.L.O. I was shaking and miserable. My grandpa and I walked over to see when our plane would be leaving for Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Next to our flight number, a simple phrase was written, "Cancelled."

BAM! A surge of nausea filled my body and I ran to the bathroom. A line of two other men greeted me so I curled up into a ball in the corner of the room and awaited my turn. As a man exited a stall, the two men in front of me ushered me in like angels at the gates of Heaven. I heaved several times before I purged myself of liquid and bile.

Soon after, Gramps and I found our way over to the information desk at United and I lay down in a corner. My grandpa yelled to me, "I'm getting you a wheelchair!" I responded, "I don't want a wheelchair!" And then, like a chariot guided by yet another angel (who just so happened to be an obese black woman), I hopped aboard a cart and passed out.

When I awoke, I was in a different terminal, over one mile away. Two hours later, we arrived in Cedar Rapids. I hoped that as my Grandfather drove his rented Subaru Forrester down the flattest roads in America, I would be saved. But no, grandpa did what I like to call, "The Boca Raton Drift." It's much like "The Tokyo Drift," only it's not cool to watch, it's not intentional and there's no prize for doing spin outs that lead into a miraculous parking job. Perhaps he's going blind or perhaps he had never ridden in a vehicle designed for lesbians, but Grandpa drove that car like we were in an earthquake.

We finally found our way to the Hampton Inn located in Iowa City. Once in the room, I lay on the bed, waiting for the world to stop spinning. I got up slowly and entered the bathroom to pee. Something then happened that I had never experienced before. I believe it to be a phenomenon, much like the Aurora Borealis or a well acted film starring Vince Vaughn. I pissed...and threw up. I didn't think the two could actually happen at the same time, but they did. For the first time in nine hours, I laughed. When I was done, I went back to my bed.

Grandpa wanted to visit his campus, so after 45 minutes of rest we stopped off at a Perkins Restaurant, had some soup, and found our way around University of Iowa. The remainder of the trip went rather smoothly, despite the occasional hiccup here and there. Namely my grandfather's insistence that he does not snore (I videotaped him doing so), crippling depression on Halloween night as I spent the holiday in a Hampton Inn room and the T.S.A. taking away the jellies I purchased in Amana, Iowa (Amish country) on my way from Cedar Rapids to Chicago.

Overall, it was a great trip and I will look back years from now and truly appreciate its significance. Now if I only I can get the puke stains out of my sweatshirt...