Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Story #1

I realize that I technically already told one story about our trip was more of an afterthought, at-the-end, not very relevant story.
But this is how it really went.

We slept (but didn't, really) at my parents house that night and woke up 3 o'clock on the dot to shlump into the shower and stand there sleepily in the water hoping the droplets would be enough to spray away the dirt and grime of human living. I am that annoying person and did actually put make-up on before we left. But if you saw my mom you would understand. She is the most immaculate and attractive almost-70-year-old woman you will ever meet. I've never seen her looking rundown and frumpy. Never. So if she can do it, I can very well blot my face with goop, too.
We wanted to head out at 3:45 buuuut I think we were actually on the road more like 4:05.
I slept on the car ride to the airport. Naturally.
Checking our bags was interesting. We only had to check the one Mark and I were bringing, since we just crammed both of our necessities in one large suitcase and my dad's duffle. The line was miles long because apparently 4:30 in the morning is the ideal time to fly everywhere and anywhere.....there was a large group of hippie musicians headed to europe for some extravaganza music fair thing. I mean dreadlocks and rainbow tie-dye and strange orange mohawks with rattails at the end and tattoos and gauges and all kinds of piercings. Obviously my dad had multiple conversations with all of them. We actually had to drag him away to get headed to our gate on time.
We walked up to the gate and they almost immediately called our boarding group. Our timing was quite excellent.
On the plane, Mark had the window seat, I sat in the middle with my mom on my other side and Dad right across the aisle. It was nice to be all seated next to each other. Mark and I leaned over and watched out our tiny little window as the orange-vested workers flitted about and did their business.

I joked that I could see Woody, Jessie and Bullseye running around on the tarmac. Good ole Toy Story.
We even got to observe as they loaded the baggage to the underside of the plane. We scoured the carts for the luggage we were bringing. I spotted my dad's first as it was on top of the pile closest to us. They began unloading and as bags disappeared one by one we finally spotted our huge red monster of a bag. It was underneath a long blue golf bag at the very back of the cart.
As more and more bags got loaded it was beginning to look as if ours would be the last one they'd take off the cart. It came down to between ours and the blue golf bag. The dude hefted the golf bag and set it right back down on the cart and grabbed our bag. We cheered quietly, because obviously it was a competition. He stuffed ours under the plan, went back for the other but a tall, official looking guy came jogging over, shouting and looking very intense. He motioned vehemently with his hand across his throat and Mark read his lips shouting, "No more! No more!"
Our bag was literally the last one to get loaded on the plane. Whew!

I also thought I heard some poor man with a horrendous, snuffling snore but turns out it was just a pug seated in front of my dad. Apparently dogs fly, too? He had a little jacket on that said, "Emotional Support Dog". Way to be, puppy. Way to be.

Flying is fun :)

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