I confess that this trip had inauspicious beginnings. I left a day early to visit Sedona. As I was sitting in the Atlanta airport, a large coffee perched precariously on the edge of the table (my fault), reading my boarding information for my flight departing within an hour, someone kncoked the table I was sitting at and dump the entire large -- very large -- cup of hot coffee all over my pants and legs. Leaping up while trying to be careful not to shout out expletives in mixed company, I grabbed a bunch of thin napkins and began the futile process of trying to wipe the coffee off me as I scurried to a nearby restroom.
Well, as you know, coffee stains...and smells. I made a valiant effort, but I was still left with blotches of coffee stains on my pants. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I shrugged, sighed, and decided to be grateful that I impulsively wore a "Hair" t-shirt. Maybe, I thought, the crowd would think I was trying to make a psychedelic statement and not realize they were coffee stains. What could I do? My clothes were in that limbo place before a flight takes off, and I was not sure they had a clothes shop in the airport where I could buy a pair of shorts for less than a designer business suit. To add fuel to the fire, I now had one less outfit to wear on this trip, and I seriously doubted the Reynolds Institute would provide a clothing allowance.
The flight to Phoenix was uneventful -- if not a bit smelly -- and I got my rental car for the drive to Sedona. Getting there would be easy, they assured me at the rental car place. Just take I-10 East to I-17 North to Sedona. The I-10 exit was a couple of easy turns out of the airport.
Great stuff, right! Not so fast, my friend, not so fast. The I-10 exit to I-17 was closed, so I went to the next exit and turned around thinking I could access is there. No such luck. It was blocked, too. Puzzled, I wondered if it had anything to do with the Arizona fires because I'm not that familiar with the Arizona geography. Several cars were trying to squeeze in through the barricades to take the exit anyway, but an Arizona policeman -- whose attention was diverted by a stalled car and its passengers -- looked up, noticed the procession heading for the exit, stomped his feet, waved his arms, and started shouting what I probably would like to have shouted at the Atlanta airport.
I soon found an exit with a convenience store and asked how else I could access I-17. They didn't think there was a way. Groaing at my luck of getting a group of directionally challenged locals, I went back to the rental car place for additional directions. They were shocked both exits were closed, information I felt they needed to know, and when I asked if it had anything to do with the fires, they gave me a puzzled look and asked, "What fires?" Okay...well...we had heard about them in Georgia,but no matter.
After some searching on a map,they routed me to I-17 and gave me several other options in case it was closed. I made it to Sedona, checked in, changed, and found a nearby Irish Pub before I began hiking the trails.
Luckily, the trip got much better after that. Much, much better. Truthfully, I was sorely tempted to take the first flight back to Atlanta after that inauspicious beginning, but once I checked in and changed into some clean clothes, all was right with the world.
Parting is such sweet sorrow, and hopefully we will all meet again face-to-face and not just on social media outlets. The Institute exceeded my expectations and delivered more than it promised.
Fellow 2011 Institute Members, let's not be strangers, no matter the obstacles!
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