Go with the Flo: A Mother's Day Musing
When I started exiting the claustrophobic student loan tunnel, I took my mother on a trip to Spain. (From this point forward, we’ll refer to Mom as “Flo” because that’s her name.) Why Spain? I had been working in Germany for about a year. I wanted to stay in Europe for the vacation because Flo would find that so exotic, but I was weary from the Deutsche kitchen’s lack of green vegetables--even the asparagus is tenderly farmed away from sunlight to be deliberately NOT green. And Delta had a major skymiles special, so there you have it. Off to Spain I go with the Flo. Flo had to get her very first passport for this trip. She was 59 and 9/11 was a current event.
I planned the itinerary so we’d meet in Paris Charles De Gaulle and then hop over to Madrid to start the adventure. Of course we missed the connection to Madrid because that’s what people do in CDG. Americans deliberately route their layovers through CDG so they can spend more time eating stale butter and cucumber sandwiches, buying the electrical outlet adapter they forgot to pack, and treasure hunting for blister pads because those new shoes you bought for the trip 2 months prior were never worn before today despite the advice of everyone you’ve ever known who took a trip. (It’s worth noting, while Flo’s new shoes are painful, her new sweater with an enormous American flag across the front is quite comfy and warm.)
So the connecting flight to Madrid was my first flight with Flo on foreign soil. It’s at this time I learned of the medical condition Aural Cognition Paralysis, or ACP. It’s that moment when someone is speaking to you, fluently, in your mother tongue, but because there’s an accent you don’t recognize, the ear loses its ability to signal the brain that you do indeed understand every word this person is saying to you. Aural Cognition Paralysis. So let’s play out a scene:
German flight attendant speaking perfect English: Madam, would you like something to drink?
Flo: Pardon?
German flight attendant speaking perfect English: Perhaps you’d like some water, tea, apple juice?
Flo: I’m sorry, I speak English. (Flo turns to daughter, anxious in the moment.) Can you tell her I just want water?
Donna to German flight attendant who speaks perfect English: We will both have water. (German flight attendant who speaks perfect English places two cups of water on the tray table)
Flo: Can you tell her I’d like some ice?
Fast forward to landing in Madrid. The flight attendants are communicating over the speaker in 3 languages fluently. They inform us that, since we are a little late arriving, they will help us deplane in an orderly, (aka Germanic), fashion so that some passengers can make their tight American Airlines connection.
Flo is in front of me as we walk down the aisle toward the cockpit exit. I see and hear that every passenger ahead of us is being asked “American?” “Are you flying American?” “American?” And as the passengers answer yes or no, they are guided in different directions so that some can make their American Airlines connection and others can go off to immigration. It’s Flo’s turn. Remember we have just landed on Delta Airlines in our final destination, Madrid. The flight attendant, still speaking perfect English, asks, “American?” Flo replies proudly, “Why, yes I am!” Her Aural Cognition Paralysis had been cured, but her SAI: Situational Awareness Index was deteriorating.
So, Spain was trip 1. Fast forward to 2020. I have now gone with the Flo to: Austria, Belgium, England--a few times, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Netherlands, Scotland, Spain, Sweden.
Memories include:
Flo setting off the security alarm at Fountainebleau--she stepped over the barricade to study the hem on Napolean’s drapes
Flo tripping on the stairs in a famous Roman eatery, almost spilling an $800 bowl of freshly grated parmesan. I still see the terror in the waiters’ eyes as the enormous metal bowl tottered in slow-motion suspense
Flo learning the metros and trolleys like a true pro
Wallace’s sword. She will not stop talking about her life’s great regret of missing the chance to see Wallace’s sword
Her own namesake city, Florence. “Well, this town is a bit of a disappointment. We should have taken the bus to Pompeii.”
Her rapid flight up 200+ stairs. She can move when she wants to
Castle after castle. Palace after palace. My main job was to keep her from touching anything. There is still a toddler in her somewhere
On the hunt to see every Caravaggio ever painted
Gorging on shortbread
Her 5-star, FREE, hotel room in Munich. “There’s just not too much to this place, is there?”
Flo’s always-amazing photography (pictures are best when taken in the “no photography allowed” areas)
Her enthusiasm for the hotel lounge freebies. “We won’t need to eat dinner after this.”
That moment a traveler on the plane mistook her for Meryl Streep
Her incredible memory. She knows all the history of who killed whom, who had what mistress, scandal this and scandal that. She is a walking history book. And the trashier the story, the better the memory
Her acquaintance with the European medical system. That little night in the hospital after forgetting to pack one of her maintenance meds
That beaming smile on her face seeing Andrea Bocelli for the first time, live in Stockholm
That moment--stretched out in her sleeper bed, with slippers, champagne and cashews--when she knew she couldn’t go back to flying coach
I am grateful for all these memories that 20 years working on the road, accumulating skymiles and hotel points, allowed us. I’m not sure when we’ll feel like flying again, but I hope I am always going somewhere with the Flo. Her spirit to try anything once and smile while doing it is pure joy. As for the next location, we’ve talked about the fjords a good bit. If we can see Wallace’s sword there and scramble around some Pompeii ruins, it might be worth the trip.
Happy Mother’s Day. I am so blessed to have had a chance to go with the Flo for 53 years...and counting!
