Passports, Bloody Knuckles and the Parisian Ice Queen

Remember that time when Sandra got kicked off of the airplane?!  Or the time that Robert with bloodied knuckles franticly scavenged the floor of the plane looking for her lost passport and in the nick of time found it, then immediately screamed throughout the plan that he found her passport and had to convince the pilot to let her back on to the plane?!  Well this is a fine beginning to our European adventure!

Sandra just graduated from Nursing school, Madison just graduated from Viewmont High School, Spencer (Madi’s boyfriend and all around awesome guy) just celebrated his one year anniversary from coming home from his LDS mission to Belgium and the Netherlands, and I am just Robert tagging along, but I do have a birthday coming up next week!  To celebrate all this, the four of us are taking a trip to Europe: Paris, France, Belgium and the Netherlands to be specific.

Because of work/school schedules, we didn’t leave on our trip till mid August.  This is one of the latest summer vacations we have ever taken.  If fact, the kids start school the day after we return.  Suddenly the day arrives to go.  Madi and I worked in the morning constantly looking at our watching in excited anticipating to leave.  Christian and Madeline had volunteered to watch the younger kids while we were away and Christian drove us to the airport.

(Sandra's Instagram Post at the airport ready almost ready to board)

Delta has a direct flight to Paris, which is wonderful.  As usual we were in the last 'Zone' to board and thus among the last 'nobodies' to load the plane.  As we get on they insist on seeing our passports again.  I already put them away.  So to the perturbment of the the stewardess lady checking us onto the plane I had to stop the line, get back into my bag and pull them all out again.  Then she wouldn't take the lot of our four passports together, but insisted that we each hold our own passport and boarding ticket.  She had a bad case of 'RBF' and as fate had planed it, this wouldn't be our last interaction with the delightful human-like stewardess.  We are now dangling our carry on luggage while pinching our boarding passes and passports in our fingers as we shuffle down the tight aisles onto the plane.  We sink as we realize that our seats are literally at the back of the plane, well to be honest, second to last row of the plane (poor bastards behind us!).  All the overhead bins, which are ridiculously smaller than normal, were already full.  So then we had to fight the incoming current of passengers and backtrack the plane looking for available bin space.  Our bags were now scattered throughout the back half of the plane.  We finally sit down when a young bearded guy with a trucker hat announces were in his seat.  We then realize that we had read the overhead seat numbers incorrectly and so everyone had to then shift over one seat to the left to accommodate Mr Trucker hat.  Already exhausted we begin tossing down pillows and blankets from the linen bin and slump in our seats to settle in.

As the self-proclaimed guardian and protector of the passports, I ask everyone to return them to me for safe guarding.  Madi and Spencer hand me theirs while Sandra continues to search through her things.  Several minutes later, I look over to Sandra and with imploring eyes which say, "um, you going to give me your passport?"  Sometimes Sandra likes to exercise her independence and not be 'controlled' so I wasn't going to push, but I see she is still looking.  Sandra’s tired and frustrated with all this last minute scurrying—“it’s somewhere here,  I just had it”.  I then ask Madi and Spence to check around their seats and front pockets to see if it’s over there (where Sandra first was sitting before we had to rearrange seats for that other guy).  We can't find it.  I start thinking, "come on guys, really start looking, this could be go so bad , what if it was dropped on the way onto the plane and it's sitting on the ramp or something?  Spencer then gets up and starts walking and looking up the aisles.  We have been all over the place trying to board and Sandra has no memory of what happened to her passport past the memory of checkin in with that grumpy gate stewardess.  We each take turns looking through the same bags and airplane pockets.  I then retrace my steps and being to search the pockets of our scattered luggage throughout the pins.  Spencer has now talked to a stewardess informing them of our situation.An announcement goes out over the intercom announcing ‘a passenger has misplaced her passport, could everyone please look around to see if it was dropped near them?”  Surprisingly, I see lots of action as passengers throughout the plane began searching around them.  Around our seats, there was so much clutter, carryon bags, blankets, pillows, snack bags.  Everyone was looking but there was so much stuff all over.  I said, "Lets clear out everything".  So we took Sandra’s things toward the back of the plane, that little recess waiting area by the restrooms (which were literally five steps away due to our stellar seat assignments) and I began dissecting the seats one by one, while Sandra for the tenth time again searched through her bags.  

The plane was already supposed to have began taxing toward the runway and now the flight crew was getting agitated.  That same prissy thin nosed stewardess who started all this passport mess in the first place started in on us, “We can’t wait anymore, I’m sorry, she will have to get off the plane!”  In horror, the devastation of our circumstance began to dawn on us--get off the plane!  “Just a minute, we’ll find it”, I frenziedly retorted.  We are all looking over the same places over and over, it has to be here.  Spencer have just talked to another, and helpful, Stewardesses relayed to us that the staff outside of the airplane have already looked up and down the plane ramp and they did not seen it—I then stubbornly declared to the icy pin-nosed stewardess that was scowling at me, "That means her passport has to be on this plane!  Unfazed by my logic and without any degree of sympathy or emotion persisted,   “We really can’t wait any longer, She has to get off the plane!” and began to start pushing Sandra down the aisle.  In incongruity and panic, I pleaded to Sandra, “What are we supposed to do?  Do we all get off, is the trip already over? What happens now?”  Sandra, now consigned to helplessness, said, no you guys stay, we’ll figure something out.”  I numbly watch as our long anticipate celebration adventure was ending before it was ever allowed to begin.  

As Sandra began fading away into the distance, my heart sank.  I was without words, stunned and helpless.  Then with a wild fury, assuming that everyone else who tried to helped search this plane was clearly was incompetent, acknowledging that only I could find this damn passport—I began kicking out everyone from their sears and threw myself into a whirlwind stuffing my hands down deep between seat cushions and front seat pockets.  I then dove onto the floor with my legs flailing and kicking anyone or anything that got in my way.  My hands invasively searching, literally intimately strip searching the bottom of each chairs and floor—feeling them up, down and every which way--around every bolt, crack and bar holding these seats to the plane, “Where the Hell are you,” I pleaded in a sacrilegious prayer! Then in divine response, the proverbial clouds broke and a ray of sunshine shone through as my now bloodied knuckles bumped into a small flat blue book wedged under the seat in front and diagonal to where Sandra was originally was sitting.  It was her passport!!!  It must have fallen to the ground and then got kicked forward and stuffed under the mounting bar fixing the seat to the plane.  I triumphantly stood up screaming, “I found it!”, “I found her passport!”.  The passengers around began to clap with relief and excitement for us!  I ran up the aisles to the front, “I Found It—I found her passport!—Get her back!”  

I then looked and saw that the plane door was already closed.  Sandra was already gone, off the plane.  The boarding ramp was already retracted away from the plane and that same ice bitch, declared, “Sorry, it’s too late, the plane is already closed, she will have to catch another flight!”  “But her passport is right here, it's right here on this plane—she can’t catch another flight to Paris with out her passport and it is here, in my hands, right here on this plane!  She has already checked in and was already on this plane before you kicked her off!  Open the doors and let her back on!!!”  Hearing the commotion, the pilot came out, initially siding with the stern stewardess, then to our saving blessings, another kind stewardess came to my rescue.  She was the one who had been talking to Madi and Spencer while helping us search in the back of the plane and had heard about how we are celebrating as a family Sandra’s graduation from Nursing School and how her whole family was here on board.  Ignoring the glares from the Ice-Queen, she began to soften the pilot, building an emotional and intellectual argument for letting her simple come back on.  The pilot conceded and informed the staff at the gate to send her back.  We all waited what felt like forever, not sure what was happening out there or if they had gotten a hold of her.  Spencer and Madi were frantically calling and texting but she never picked up.  No one on the plane knew what was going on there we just waited in silence. Finally, we see an old man peeping thorough the door’s 3 inch round window, the nice stewardess gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up and the plane door reopens.  Standing next to him in a heap of tears is my poor Sandra.  She comes back on and we embrace—the whole place breaks out in cheers and clapping.  Shaking with adrenaline and relief, I walked back to our seats with Sandra and all four passports in hand.

Periodically over the next nine and a half hours of flight, I would turn toward Sandra and stroking her arm or kissing her cheek, I think, she almost wasn’t.  I can’t believe how close we came from total vacation devastation.  In moments like this, you discover how deep you truly feel.  It wasn't about potentially missing Europe or the inconvenience of sorting out this mess, it was the fact that some wretched callus wench took my Sandra away from me.  That for just the briefest of moments we were forcefully separated from each other.

I know that I don't know what I believe anymore.  But this much I do know.  If we continue to exist after this life, I will be there kicking and wailing and thrashing my legs and bloody knuckles in Hell and through demonic Stewardesses searching for Sandra because I am not living life here or there without her by my side.  Until then, we're excited to enjoy Paris together.

A Most Memorable Day

Memorial Day, my parents invited everyone over to their house for a BBQ.  After dinner, my brothers David and John set up a croquet tournament in the backyard (a typical Flynn summer event—Ultimate Croquet!).  However, this time my sister Christine wanted to play.  Christine has severe degenerative Muscular Dystrophy and has all but dropped out of society due to her immobility and subsequent depression.  Several months ago the state finally granted her a high end electric wheelchair, thus allowing her options of mobility again.  Her debut event was Christian and Madeline’s wedding last October.  Now she is going places.  It’s quite an endeavor loading/unloading/transporting/setting up the 400+ lb beast, but when we do, Christine is able to travel and participate.  Christine hasn’t played croquet for at least 12 or more years.  So this was a big deal, that she was able to play with the family again.

We all started playing, David, then me, then my Dad, then Jessica (John’s wife), then my sister Ashley, then Christine and finally John.  David and I shot off taking an early lead, till I got stuck on a screwy hill and was surpassed by Dad and Jessica.  Ashley, Christine and John continued to trail.  I made a few sweet plays and shoot past Jessica and Dad and back up to second place.  David gets to the end first goes through the last hoop but misses the poison stick.  When attempting to hit the stick he hits it becoming poison but inadvertently his ball continues on goes back through the last hoop instantly killing himself!  I cheer and then hit my shot through the last two hoops to get poison only to have my ball ricochet off the stick and rebound back through the hoops also committing suicide! Were both out.  

Jessica goes through the last hopes but with Dad on her tail, she strategically elects to not get poison so Dad who will become poison on his next turn can't go after her out (rule that once poison you have to go after other poison players or those the furthest back to prevent just guarding the poison stick).  Dad becomes poison.  Jessica tentatively plays cat and mouse around my Dad waiting for her chance to get poison when he is a safe distance from her.  

Meanwhile, Ashley and John progress towards the final hoops.  Regardless of the danger Ashley sets herself up for an opportunity to get poison.  Dad goes after Ashley and takes her out of the game.  Christine in the far back continues her slow but stead progress through the course, because of her arm strength she gets two hits each turn, but still lags behind.  John now tries to get into position but misses the hoops (the story of his game!) trapping himself into a corner.  Dad takes him out.  Jessica meanwhile becomes poison and the two dual, Dad soon eliminates his only threat--victory is in his grasp, only to discover that Christine has since creeped up on him and now sits in front of the last two hoops!  

Dad goes for the final kill, but misses.  Christine takes a steady shot and becomes poison.  She positions herself on the other side of the hoops trying to block Dad’s ability to strike.  Determined to win at all costs Dad attacks again and misses again.  His ball is now about five feet away from Christine’s.  She has a chance, she aims but doesn’t quite get there.  She gets a second shot, she swings her ballot and the earth stands still as the sweet clank of two croquet balls collide—Christine wins the day!!!  We all jumped in air screaming and cheering, as Dad drops  in defeat into a patio chair pouting his loss.  I have never seen Christine more filled with life and joy that I have watching her in that triumphant moment!  I know it is just croquet, but this was about much more than croquet--it's about freedom and the ability to live and enjoy life.  This was a moment when Christine was able to break the restrictive bands on her body and live again!  This will truly be a most memorable Memorial Day—Go Christine—I love you!

Watch the win: https://www.facebook.com/robert.flynn.90/videos/1800816479935184/

My Name is Nathaniel

About a week ago Sandra, Madison, her boyfriend Spencer Cook and I went on a double date to the Pie Pizzeria in Salt Lake near the U.  It's one of our favorites.  Anyway after dinner we had about a half of pizza in left overs, we out it in a to go box and started home.  As we were driving to the freeway, Spencer said that he had a tradition after eating at the Pie with friends to give their left overs to the homeless or needy that blanket the downtown streets and parks.  "What a great idea", I said, "lets do it"! As we were driving we saw these three people bundled together in blankets near the park corner.  We pulled over and Spencer got out and handed them the pizza box.  Their faces lit up with smiles and as the lady opened the box and seeing the delicious Pie Pizza inside she literally began jumping up and down with excitement!  This totally made our night & apparently theirs as well.

Today is Sunday morning and we wanted to do a service project.  We discussed several ideas, then I combined a lot of their ideas and said, "How about we make sack lunches and give them out to the homeless"?  They were all excited, Ashton & I quickly ran to the store to get supplies and then put together snack bags while Elisabeth began baking cookies (her specialty), Madison started writing personal notes on the outsides of all the lunch sacks, Spencer laid out a long row of great harvest wheat bread and made sandwiches and Hunter put all the bags together: Peanut butter Sandwich, Apple juice, a baggie full of Annie's Boom-Chika-Pop Sweet Popcorn or Ritz Toasted Chips, a granola bar and a baggie with two amazing chocolate cookies all with a sweet individual handwritten message to brighten their day.  We also got several boxes of large muffins to give out to areas with lots of people as we might encounter.

We drove into Salt Lake and stopped at a small park right off the 4th street exit.  This park had several homeless scattered around.  Each of the kids took one of their two filled lunch sacks with them.  They were each responsible for choosing and giving away their own sacks.  The first person we came across was sleeping with a cheap thin blue blanket covering his face and body.  Spencer quietly set the lunch, message facing toward him and respectfully moved on.  Ashton met a sweet old man with white hair and long wild beard.  His face immediately turned into a smile as he graciously took his gift.  Within minutes he had found himself a comfortable spot and began enjoy his unexpected fortune.  Elisabeth gave her first lunch sack to an emaciated old man looking through a garbage can for food and supplies.  Hunter found another person sleeping near a wall at the public restrooms, he too quietly left it near him to be found when he woke up.  Madison gave her's to a red-faced forty year old lady wrapped in several blankets to keep warm.  We came across a small play ground where we gave away several large muffins to a group sitting on park benches and wheel chairs.  There was also a younger lady, maybe upper thirties, clearly homeless and destitute sitting alone in a swing with the saddest lost expression on her face.  We offered her our food, to which she declined and turned her head to look away from us ending our conversation.  We walked away saddened by the pain, loss, depression that she was dealing with all alone.  So many hurt and suffer in this world, sometimes because of the choices they've made, but more often due to poor circumstances, luck, mental health challenges or lack of love and support.  Our hearts broke at how much need we saw and truthfully how little even our best intensions were actually going to help anyone?

On our way to give out our last sack to a young man sleeping in a old tennis court his crack head of a girlfriend came running toward us swearing and cussing, "We don't want your bag, get that out of here!" Then this other old guy began swearing and yelling at her for stealing his blanket and taking his crack!!  Then the two of them just went off on each other saying the foulest things at the top of their lungs.  Through this the boyfriend rose up eyeing the lunch sack and wishing he could have it but didn't want to risk the wrath of his controlling girlfriend.  We quickly made some distance.  On our way back to the car Spencer decided to go back to where he had left his sack.  He gently woke him and told him what he had brought him.  The man sat up, bewildered by the kind gesture and began to tell us about his life.  He was a refugee from the Sudan.  He missed his family and has not had a lot of luck here in our country.  As he talked to Spencer tears welled up in his eyes.  He concluded the conversation by saying, "My name is Nathaniel".

We returned to our car touched by this experience and drove out looking for more to serve.  We quickly saw the difficulty of knowing who was in need, who was homeless or hungry?  We didn't want to offend by assuming or judging others on the basis of their clothes or cleanliness.  Passing by Temple Square we saw a lady begging for money.  Spencer jumped out and took her a meal.  They talked for a long time, but ultimately she refused our food due to food allergies and medical conditions.  She came up to our window after and profusely thank us for thinking of her and offering her a gift and wished us well. 

We continued up the street toward Memory Grove park when we saw an older couple sitting on a park bench with a tell-tale homeless shopping cart filled with all their earthly possessions, so Madison and Elisabeth got out and brought them both a lunch sack.  They couldn't have been more thrilled and sweet.  The four of them talked for several minutes and out to the blue the old man resembling Santa Clause wearing a multi-colored turban pulled out a trumpet and began just tooting his horn.  No music, just loud blasts of noise, like he was calling in the infantry.  He just laughed and was taken away by the sweetness of these two girls.

After a little more driving we ended up at the frontrunner downtown station.  We met a guy searching through the rocks near the curb and asked if he wanted some food.  He was really excited to talk to us and gladly took our food.  He then became transfixed on my car's navigation screen.  He declared, "that's like the world on there!  I get it, you can see the circumference of the angles as they traverse the poles, yeah like there (pointing at something on the map) the north pole and over there, yeah I get it!"  He again thanked us and we continued on.

We drove all the way to liberty park, but there wasn't anyone there (probably because it was so cold). Thinking we should probably head back as we were about to get on the freeway entrance we saw two younger men, probably in their twenties begging for change.  Ashton and Spencer got out and brought them their last two sacks.  Their teeth were rotted and one looked like he had been blitzed the night before, but they both graciously accepted out lunches with warm smiles and a handshake.  Hunter gave our last lunch sack away to a forty something lady without teeth wearing all pink sweats and probably weighing under 100 pounds.  She too gratefully took our gift.  We were out of lunch sacks, but still have about a dozen muffins, so we drove toward the homeless shelter where Madison and Spencer quickly handed them all out.  They met one small group who were so nice to them.  It was one of their birthdays and he was so grateful for the birthday visit.  He said, "How about a birthday kiss!"  Madison replied with a big smile, "How about a birthday muffin instead?!"

We all returned to the car uplifted to have made a small difference in the life of others today.  I am sure the city has sources that provide shelter and food and that our small act probably won't change or save anyone's life, but at least for one small moment, they might have felt noticed and loved and if nothing else, we are all better today for trying to love and serve others.