Into the Lower 48
Shortly after departing Anchorage, the night sky darkened enough to reveal stars but viewing them was impractical from an aisle seat. About an hour out of Chicago, the eastern sky quietly lightened with brilliant bands of color. The flight landed at O'Hare just before 6:00 a.m.
There were no rental cars available for a one-way drop-off in upper Michigan. With the time change, I would have to wait until after 11:00 a.m. to call the company in Wasilla to make other arrangements. Instead of spending long hours at the airport, I took a taxi to Hinsdale. The driver was Afghani and gave me a high five when I gave simple directions in Farsi. Elated to hear a foreigner utter a few words of his native tongue, the man waived the fifty per cent fee that is normally added to the meter.
Carol or Dick did not respond to my early morning knock so I left my baggage by their back door and walked the few short blocks into Hinsdale. Hardwood trees in summer bloom shaded neighborhood streets lined with tidy yards and trendy two-story homes. I usually stop at the Corner Bakery for a dream bar and a cup of coffee but this time went to Page's Restaurant for a full breakfast, just across the street from the train station. Regulars sipped morning coffee while reading 'The Trib' while others exchanged their own news. I inquired about a phone card at the newsstand and the friendly clerk directed me to a Walgreen's Drugstore in a nearby shopping center. It was a fine summer day for walking there and I strolled the Saturday Farmers Market set up in Burlington Park. Colorful fruits and vegetables lined the side of the street on shaded display tables. I found the phone card, made a couple of calls from the Mobil Station, then walked back to the house, meeting Carol and Dick on the way.
By late afternoon, the company called with new travel arrangements. They got me a flight out of O'Hare for early afternoon tomorrow.
