Stick in the Mud – Part 1: Your Table is Ready

“How come you don’t want to travel any more?” she asked. And she was right. My wife correctly diagnosed me. I had become a stick in the mud.

So a few months ago I started planning a circuit of North America by rail. The primary motivation was to take my grandson, along with my son and son in law, to the greatest aviation event in the world that you have never heard of – the Oshkosh AirVenture. I know, you’ve never heard of it, but it is far and away the largest aviation event in the world. Over 600,000 people and 10,000 airplanes in a little town in Wisconsin that for 6 days becomes the busiest airport in the world.

If I was going to go that far, I might as well go to Washington DC as well, and hit the Air & Space Museums, and then go to NYC and go to some of the jazz clubs there, then on to Toronto where Carol would meet me and we would then take the cross-Canada train, the ViaRail Canadian, back to the West Coast.

But first I had to get out of Vancouver. The Empire Builder picked me up in Vancouver WA at 5pm. However, at 2:30pm that afternoon, the Boudin fire had erupted in the Columbia Gorge directly on our path. We stopped in White Salmon so the conductor could meet with local officials. Their wisdom was we could continue on two conditions. First, we would have to go no faster than 5 mph for the next 5 miles. Second, the train’s ventilation system would have to be turned off so the smoke would not be ingested into the train. Slowly we proceeded, and although the fire was only a few hours old it had already decimated miles of land on either side of the track.

The smoke was heavy, and it felt like we were in ocean fog, but finally we made it through and I enjoyed a lovely sunset:

All across the country, there was consturction at many RR stations, owing to the Biden infrastructure plan:

I suspect that will not continue for long.

I made it to Oshkosh, and joined up with the rest of my crew:

Lots of planes on the ground:

And in the air:

The daily air show was amazing, particularly an F-22 Raptor doing things that no airplane can possibly do:

The Heritage Flight is always a crowd favorite, here a P-51 from WWII accompanied by an F-22 from, well, now.

This old codger and I had a nice talk. I told him that I came within a whisker of buying an airplace like he was showing, a Meyers OTW (“Out to Win”). I asked what he wanted for it. He said “$75,000.” I said “that’s not enough.” He said “I know, but the only people interested in old airplanes like this are old people like you and me.” Point taken.

When I saw this guy, I assumed he was with one of the air demonstration parachuting groups:

I felt sorry for him. It was hot and humid, and I was sweating in a short sleeve shirt, while this poor guy was dressed up in a leather flight suit like he was going on a mission in a B-29, sweat beading down his nose. So I went over to talk to him and although he was not with any team, he was indeed waiting for his flight in a B-29. He said his grandfather served in WWII and his great uncle died in that war, so going up in a B-29, dressed up like a rear turret gunner, was his way of honoring them and their service. Not cheap, his short flight in “Doc” was going to set him back thousands of dollars. He was happy to pay it.

Cindy was a security guard, hired to sit by the entry to one of the eating areas and make sure no one took any beers beyond the fence. I was happy to enjoy the shade, she was happy to have some company. I asked if people actually tried to secret alcohol out, or if it was mostly people who weren’t aware. She said when she sees people heading to the exit with a beer she points to the sign and they apologize and leave the can at a table. Some people buy a half dozen beers to bring to their friends at the flight line. When she points to the sign they shrug, and chug them all down before leaving.

This guy had a novel way of selling an airplane.

When I first saw him from a distance I assumed his wife had a different plan.

For only $49.99 you too can have an autopilot:

And with that, it was time to take off from Oshkosh and head to D.C.

One can spend days, weeks at the various museums and art galleries in D.C. Seeing one of the actual Space Shuttles, unrestored exactly as it was when it landed, moved me since I still remember when the Columbia came across central California on its first return to earth. Our entire law firm clustered around a small TV one of the partners had in his office. As it came overhead on its way to Edwards Air Force Base we heard its sonic boom.

This was the prototype of the Boeing 707. While Boeing officials looked on, Boeing’s chief test pilot, Tex Johnson, made a high speed pass in this airplane at the Seattle Seafair in the 1950’s and executed a perfect barrel roll. “When his boss asked him what he thought he was doing rolling his plane in the air, Tex replied, ‘I’m selling airplanes.’ With a witty reply, his job was saved.”

The Canadian embassy:

Ahem.

As a former Corvette owner, I appreciated this wall hanging in a Washington restaurant:

Onward to Penn Station in New York:

My primary purpose in NYC was to go to a few jazz clubs. The first was in Greenwich Village, the Village Vanguard. I googled for a nearby restaurant and found one called “Cecchi’s.” The name rang a bell but I coudn’t place it. I went there and had a wonderful time with Ben and Miguel, and enjoyed a wonderful meal:

After a time I noticed a book on one of the shelves, “Your Table is Ready,” and realized why the name of the restaurant was familiar. The book was by Michael Cecchi-Azzolina and I had read it some years ago and loved it.

The Village Vanguard is one of the oldest and most heralded jazz clubs. In the background is One World Trade Center.

The club is located in a basement, as all good jazz clubs should be. Down a narrow staircase and you enter one of the hallmarks of jazz:

The Vanguard Jazz Orchestra has been playing, with various iterations, for decades on Monday nights and I shortened by time in DC to make it to New York for a Monday night. They did not disappoint.

Seated in front of me were two young women from Korea who were studying classical music at NYU:

They said they were at the club to try to understand jazz rhythms and chord progressions. “Good luck,” I said. “One of the reasons I love jazz is the challenge in understanding it.”

Next to me were Jack and Muheed (and a lovely woman who photo-bombed us):

Muheed and Jack were recently retired, with kids who were also music students at NYU. I introduced them to the two Korean women and they concluded that they had probably crossed paths.

The next night I went to Birdland, another jazz house, and the next night to a blues place in the Village. Once again I went to Cecchi’s for dinner. After enjoying another of Ben’s special “Ken” martinis while visiting with the person next to me, Ben said “Michael wants to talk to you.” Puzzled I looked up and there was the proprietor himself. We had a brief visit, he gave me his card and invited me to call him if I returned to NY. I asked for picture with him. He said sure, but it will cost you $7. I said no problem, add it to my bill. Instead, they comp’d my drink.

..to be continued