Arrival

Truck size = plane size

From the moment I arrived at the Esso Terminal of the Norman Rogers Airport in Kingston, I was made acutely aware of how heavy my luggage appeared.  Fully aware of the 25 pound limit for all luggage (including carry-on?!?), I nonetheless toted an expandable suitcase (which was maximally expanded), a duffel bag, a backpack, and a purse.  All necessities naturally.

The first thing the attendant says when I arrive, after surveying my person, is "we'll need to weigh all that stuff."  I smile bravely.  Shortly, he is joined by another attendant who also exclaims on the need to weigh me in....my smile falters somewhat.  Finally, I am at the scale, and joined by yet another attendant (what's with this superb customer service?) to actually execute the weighing.

The pilots are at the front there,
limned in celestial
light

After a short struggle, she manages to heft my suitcase onto the scale.  Forty-two pounds.  Hrm.  Then she adds my duffel bag....tally goes up to 57lbs.  Topped off with my backpack, I'm weighing in at 72lbs--this is not good.  She gives me a withering look and asks me how long I'll be staying.  Seeing an opening for mercy, I let her know that I'm a Medical Student (boom goes the M-bomb) who will be staying for FIVE WEEKS.  Patiently, she explains that there is an absolute, incontrovertible 25lb per person limit, even for Medical Students who will be staying for FIVE WEEKS.  However, given that the plane is only at 30% capacity this morning she will let me through.  "But tell your colleagues that the limit is firm!" she warned direly.  Phew.

After successfully navigating my luggage, I catch a glimpse of my plane.  It's basically the size of a truck.  But that's cool.  I'm a frequent flyer and shit.  And then I get on and realize that I can SEE THE PILOTS.  For some reason this alarmed me, briefly, then I regained my cool.  All was well and we took off in the sunshine.

....until we got to the other side when the snow squall warnings I had read about manifested.  Blowing snow, no visibility, and 30km/hr winds while flying in a toy plane.  Umm awesome.  We're bouncing through the crisp northern air, forging through conditions that would make a Boeing cower, when some sort of buzzer starts going off.  We suddenly drop down, and the plane starts pretending to be a bucking bronco as the outline of the trees rushes up toward us.  Just as I was sending my final prayers up to heaven, we land, and our suave, francais pilots welcome us to Moosonee.  They calmly advise us to bundle up, as we've landed in a blizzard.

The little plane that could