1985: The Third Day of Christmas IV, my first flight

Of the four high-school holiday breaks, I still find it amazing that the best one I ever experienced was in Beulah, ND. I think it had more to do with me being a senior than the location. The two in Houston were plagued with boredom due to no close-by friends (the city was spread out) and Indianapolis was slightly better thanks to my part-time job; if I didn’t have company, I at least had some extra money. Small compensation for a teenager. Beulah’s was the best compromise of circumstances: I got to spend Christmas time in civilization and New Year’s with the friends I had at school.

Celebrating Christmas in Beulah would’ve been blasphemy for my mother’s side of the family so going to Bloomington was mandatory. Meanwhile, Mom had joined Dad and me around Halloween. I’m not sure what motivated her decision. Mom despised all things North Dakota more than me. Maybe she needed a break from living with my grandparents, she wanted to retrieve the cats or she wanted to be a complete killjoy. (Dad and I had a good arrangement; as long as my grades were great and he didn’t need to speak to an authority figure about me, we were cool.) Knowing Mom, she probably came to Beulah for all of the above.

The break kicked off on December 20, a Friday, the best starting point. We loaded up the Nissan and hauled ass when Dad got home from work. First stop, Bismarck to eat at this buffet joint we frequently visited any time we were in the “city.” Stuffing myself was a smart move, it put me out for the night. As if there is any scenery in North Dakota…in December…in the dark. Mom and Dad tagged team on the driving because I have no recollection of a hotel along the way.

We arrived at Grandma’s house by Saturday evening, unpacked our gear and settled in. Brian seemed to be doing well at his third high school Central Catholic. He played on the football team, he was fairly popular and he would be receiving his driver’s license in three months. I doubt he was thrilled to see me, his older, uncool brother. I was over blaming him for his part in my exile (I didn’t want to attend yet another Catholic prison of his choosing) yet I was indifferent to Brian. We most likely had a truce to get through the week.

The actual holiday of Christmas wasn’t very memorable. Gifts were exchanged, food was eaten, TV was watched, maybe we ducked out to see a movie, the “old people” played euchre, old shouting matches came up (somebody liked to cheat at cards) and so on. I’m confident I received clothes and money with extra helpings of nagging…college was on the horizon. I’m sure I gave everybody something back. It was a meaningless time away from the routine of school in my opinion.

There was one deviation from the monotony. Somebody spotted a mouse upstairs and we got it trapped on the stairs. This became an excellent opportunity to put our cats Teddy and Mewsette to work. Their mother Farrah never taught them how to hunt so the mouse was going to definitively answer the nature versus nurture argument. Mewsette caught the mouse first and then proceeded to bat the helpless creature around as if it were the ultimate toy! Grandpa cursed at her saying she was useless. I thought it was hilarious. Teddy jumped in on the action and he didn’t mess around. He bit the rodent immediately. To him, it wasn’t a toy, it was prey. We tried to get the dead mouse out of his mouth for disposal but Teddy demonstrated a vicious growl we had never heard before. Seems he had a taste for blood. Eventually, Teddy gave up the corpse and we carried on with the standard holiday drama. At least we proved to our grandparents that domestic city cats are natural-born mousers like their farm cousins.

As for the cash I received, the bulk was spent on enjoying the few luxuries of Bloomington-Normal: a gyro for dinner, a couple purchases at Adventureland, some time at the arcade near ISU and four albums from Apple Tree Records: Shabooh Shoobah by INXS, Prince Charming by Adam & the Ants and Time & Tide by Split Enz, the last one is a mystery yet I’m confident I have it on CD. None of these were new releases since the ones I really wanted I had covered, namely Songs from the Big Chair by Tears for Fears, or heard ad nauseum through Bismarck’s Top 40 radio station. My obsession on moving forward musically wouldn’t happen for another year. These acquisitions were more along the lines of building a solid foundation or back catalog to exemplify my tastes.

Returning to North Dakota came with a huge surprise. Either Dad didn’t tell me about it or I ignored him but we had to fly back which was something I had never done before. I was equally excited and terrified at this prospect. Why was I terrified? I’ve been afraid of heights since I was six and by the time I was 17, I had seen over a half-dozen airplane disaster flicks. Never mind the horrors I absorbed from reading about the real-life accidents, namely the DC-10 crash out of O’Hare in 1979, the airport we were starting from. I’m an advocate to getting children on a plane ASAP too. They’ll grow into calmer passengers instead of nervous spazzes like me. How I envy my nieces and nephews.

I guess Mom didn’t want to make the dull drive back alone or with Brian so we took a shuttle bus from Bloomington to O’Hare. It was the longest, most boring leg of our journey. Dad napped and I jammed to my newly acquired Walkman knockoff. We debarked at the O’Hare terminal to catch the Northwest flight to Minneapolis. Traveling during the Eighties was a thousand times easier. Security checks weren’t the ridiculous, useless pat downs they are now and carry-on luggage had a more liberal definition.

I was initially relaxed on the plane. The interior was certainly smaller than what I had seen in movies: this was a 727, most shows go with jumbo jets. Then the plane taxied down the runway, accelerated and lifted off at a steep angle. I started sweating. Great, I thought, it’s going to be similar to a long, long, frightening roller coaster ride. After we were a few hundred feet up, I heard the engines grow quieter. I prodded my Dad to alert him that we were probably going to splatter all over Cook County. He replied tersely about the crew following noise-reduction procedures due to the Interstate below. How glad I was to see he was right. Once we cleared I-94, the jet’s engines cranked up and we had a safe flight to Minneapolis-St. Paul.

Thankfully it was practically an up and down flight followed by a brisk walk through the airport to our connecting plane for another, longer trek to Bismarck. It must’ve cost some serious coin for Dad to buy a pair of one-way tickets to such an obscure destination.

At Bismarck, Dad had arrangements with a co-worker to give us a lift home. I was too relieved to be on the ground to mind the tight quarters in this guy’s minivan full of small kids and luggage.

Once we were back home, the real fun started. Firstly, I had programmed the VCR to snag three movies Showtime played while I was away: The Meaning of Life, Bachelor Party and Repo Man. With Mom in Bloomington, I could enjoy them sans her nagging over the nudity, F bombs and Catholic jokes. Secondly, I had about another week to kill before school and with Dad away at work, I cranked the volume on new record. Lastly, I spent hours hanging around with Mike, Jon and Darren playing Star Ace, Risk and whatever. I killed a couple evenings with the girlfriend too. I tend not to discuss Trish much since I have little idea whatever became of her once I graduated from high school.

New Year’s Eve was a modest get-together at Mike’s house. We played poker for pennies and thanks to The Flamingo Kid being on cable, Mike and I had developed a habit for playing Gin Rummy using Matt Dillon’s catchphrase of “Sweet Georgia Brown” when presenting a winning hand.

School was back in session the following week. My life resumed its routine once final exams concluded. However, the pressure was going to ratchet up: graduation in May, college applications to finish, acceptance/rejection letters and the biggest worry…how to pay for it. At least I got to put all my future troubles aside for two weeks and enjoy being a teenager even if Beulah was an adverse place.

This entry was posted in History. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply