Mom and Dad dropped us off at the airport and Maralea and I walked with our bags to the Delta line, which snaked around several times. It moved fast, but was long. I was wearing my BYU hat but was already sweating from the combination of early morning Las Vegas heat and self inflicted tension. And yes, I wore my awesome ragged light blue tattered denim shirt that Maralea has so detested for years. The color is faded, the cloth is frayed and ripped, both sleeves are ripped and, understandably, Maralea is not keen on being associated with a hobo. But it is just so comfortable - and cool. It took a long, long time to work that baby in. We’ll see if it survives Peru. I have to admit, my trusty shirt is probably approaching retirement. We purchased a couple of rolling duffle bags for this trip real cheap at the outlet store mall just west of our home. Maralea warned me at the time that they were cheap (the bad kind of cheap), but I said:
“Yeah, but they’re . . . cheap” (you know, the good kind of cheap). So, I had some egg on my face when we discovered that they fall straight backwards if you let go of the handle while pulling them. But seriously, how often is that going to be a problem for us? (Fingers crossed.)
The flight from Las Vegas to Atlanta was pretty smooth. I fell asleep immediately after we got into the air, my body trying to catch up on the five hours of deprived slumber. That turned out to be a mere five minute power nap, complete with a really cool dream that I cannot remember (but I think it involved being chased by some Peruvian jungle creatures). Try as I might to return to sleep, the close quarters (with my knees pushing against the seat directly in front of me) and my inability to fight off the slight curiosity in watching the movie: Date Night shown on the plane kept me awake. (Don’t bother with that one, by the way. It was like the worst episodes of The Office and 30 Rock rolled into one movie.)
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| Rachel got the ball rolling on one sweet reunion last year when she got in touch via Facebook |
The second we touched down in Atlanta I received a phone call from Rachel Parker. Rachel connected with me last July rather randomly when she decided to find the missionaries who taught and her mother, Evelyn, after giving a talk on Pioneers in her singles ward in Atlanta, GA. Interestingly enough, we had been in Atlanta last July to watch Jordan and his team in the Junior Olympics. During that trip, Maralea and I took the opportunity to drive to Vidalia, GA, the first area of my LDS mission (September 1979-February 1980) to attend church, and visit some of the members still there all these years later. It was a wonderful trip, but I wondered throughout what had become of Evelyn. We had lost touch and had no communication since I returned home from my mission in August 1981. I had related to Maralea the story of Evelyn’s conversion as we drove around Vidalia. (When I parked the car across the street from the rat infested structure that served as our missionary apartment for the six months I was I Vidalia for a picture, Maralea refused to get out of the car, fearing for her life.) Within two weeks of our return home from Georgia last year, I was contacted by my Vidalia mission companion, Lamar Day, who passed along a message he received on Facebook from Rachel, who said she was on an errand to locate Elders Royal and Day, the missionaries who taught her mother. The wheels got turning and we quickly got in touch, exchanging emails, Facebook messages and comments, phone calls, and finally had occasion to meet on Friday, July 16, 2010 - two years to the day that David left for his mission. Our flight into Atlanta was about 45 minutes late. I had sent word to Evelyn, Rachel and Rebekah (Rachel’s sister) prior to leaving Las Vegas that we would have a layover of about three hours in Atlanta and invited them to stop by. Honestly, I did not think that would really happen. But, Rachel was as determined to make that happen as she was to locate her mother’s missionaries last year. Rachel reported during our Atlanta touch down phone call that she was on her way to the airport from school, and that her mother, Evelyn, and sister, Rebekah, were on the way - not far behind. It seemed like it would work, until we got into the Atlanta airport terminal and remembered how huge it is. Since we lost a good 45 minutes on our flight, we worried that we might get lost and miss our Peru flight boarding time of 4:05 pm. We got a little worried about having to go back through security, not knowing how long that would take. We really had about a 45 minute window to make this happen. So, we forged ahead. It actually would have been easier had we jumped on the tram to baggage claim like everyone else instead of just walking and following the signs (which really should be accompanied with distance markers,
i.e. “Baggage Claim, 3 miles”). As we made our way up the escalator and turned to our left, there was Rachel, smiling brightly, waving. This was our first meeting, but we were not at all strangers. It was really exciting. Rachel walked with us to an area where we could keep an eye on the airport security checkpoint and another eye on the clock. We visited briefly before Evelyn and Rebekah arrived. That was just incredible. She extended her arms out and said: “Elder Royal!” It was just so great to see Evelyn again, to introduce her and her beautiful daughters to Maralea, and to take a few precious moments to get reacquainted. We took a few pictures, did a quick little video interview, said our goodbyes, and then headed back through security. It was not nearly long enough! But, thanks to AT&T and the world of Facebook, I had that photo posted online before you could say:
“Dude, do you actually have a Facebook account?” Rachel presented me with a recent wedding photo with a beautiful sentiments that will be a keepsake - a sweet reminder that we can never underestimate the good that can be done when in the service of God.
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| 30 Years Later: At Atlanta airport with (from left) Evelyn, Rebekah, Mike, and Rachel |
We made it to our gate with about 15 minutes to spare, enough time to rush back to the closest terminal café so I could order shrimp and grits, with collard greens (mmm mmm mmm). That was one major, juicy, spicy, delightful southern meal. (Maralea got a salad. She eats up my cheese grits at home and usually loves shrimp, but I think the stress of worrying about missing our flight to Peru scared her away from my selection.) We arrived at Gate E3 and devoured our food (well, okay, I did the devouring - Maralea ate like the lady she is and always has been). (Note to my Royal family: You will see shrimp and grits at the house at some future time because I have now been thoroughly inspired.) As we sat at the gate, we noticed all announcements given by airline personnel were in Spanish. I looked at Maralea and we chuckled, both of us recalling our phone conversation with David from the airport in Atlanta about 23 months earlier as he awaited to board the flight to Lima. There was a similar kind of flight announcement in Spanish that we heard in the background and David said (after spending about three weeks learning the language in the Mission Training Center):
“Well, I think we are getting ready to board. They’re speaking in Spanish over the intercom and I can’t understand them. Yeah, that can’t be good.” I identified some pay phones and thought perhaps I had identified the phone from which David made that call. It was just kind of a funny, surreal moment. Interesting that now, 23 months later, David speaks fluently like a native, with a native accent, and will be leading us around for the entire trip once we finally meet up.
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