Today was - I don't know a good adjective - surreal? yeah, not quite real.
I got up and got out the door by 4 a.m. (pretty amazing right there. I'm NOT a morning person.)
He drove, so we made it to the Airport in record time. (read, nothing legal about it, baby)
You know how some people are just able to decide to do a thing, and they just do it, and everything kind of falls into place? My life is like that. I don't usually run into snags or pitfalls. I plan a road trip, and just hop in the car and drive there. My Mom and I drive up to her chemo treatments 3 hours away, all the time. Just get in and go. Turn around come home.
Mike's luck is NOT that kind of luck. In fact, it's the opposite.
I used to tease him about his "paranoia" over trips and things. Packing a survival kit for an 8 hour trip, really? It seemed like such overkill to me. He would never stand in the check out line with me at the grocery store. He said he would jinx it. What?
Yeah- he does.
A simple road trip for him is NEVER simple.
At the grocery store, he DOES jinx the line.
True story: once, after ringing up 3 items, he handed the cashier a $100, as he let go, in the split second before she grabbed it, the doors opened, the wind from outside blew in, and the bill flew gracefully onto the conveyor belt and got sucked under... yeah.
A day trip from Colorado Springs to Cripple Creek got us stuck in snow, in a 4WD Scout, with an infant... stuff like that.
So this morning, when he saw that his flight was scheduled to depart at 8 am (local airport time), he insisted on being there to check in almost 90 minutes early. Now, I've never checked in more that 30 minutes before the flight leaves. I hate having to hang around so long. I hate long goodbyes. But of course, he was right.
I dropped him and his stuff at the ticketing/baggage check area outside. He went in to check the bags. He wanted me to drive around, park the car, and come inside, in case his bag was too heavy and he had to remove some things. I'm thinking, I've seem some of the stuff people have taken on planes, it won't be too heavy. (riiiight)
By the time I circled the terminal, parked, put my little boy's shoes on him, and we walked to the ticket counter, Mike had made it to the agent. "Checking these bags through to Phoenix? Have you paid for two?"
Mike: "Yes, I've paid for two, to San Jose?"
Agent lady: "oh, that flight's cancelled. Didn't you get a phone call?"
Mike: "Nooooo, I got a text, 30 minutes ago, saying the flight was on time, as scheduled."
Agent: (checking the computer) "Well, yes, it was, 30 minutes ago, but it's cancelled now." (smiles)
Mike: "Sooooo, what? um . .. what now?" (remember, my p.o.v. here, He was panicking. )
Agent: "Would you like me to re-book you on another flight? There's one . . . here, there's one at 8:15, with Delta, it goes through Salt Lake City. Would that be alright?"
Mike: muttering "wish I had that page printed confirming my shuttle ride, should have, how can I, well, (to the agent) yes, 8:15 will be fine, thanks. Can you do that here? Now?"
Agent: smiling again, "Just a moment." (several moments pass. Many keystrokes, the tap-tapping of the keys rattling his nerves, constricting the blood flow to his brain.)
Me: "Come on Buster, lets go look over here."
My little guy and I amble around, very slowly. He is whispering to me because he is just waking up, and is a little nervous about the new place with all the strange people. And he's very cuddly, because he's nervous, and cold. We check out the shoe shine chairs, like black thrones, where, for $10 an man can be a king for 10 minutes, having a servant bowing before him.
Finally, Mike comes around the corner, behind us. He tells us he needs to go through the Food Court and on to the Delta counter. "Where's the Food Court," he asks. Not enough blood to his brain. He's scanning the area around us, I'm looking at "Houlihan's Grill" closed at 7am. I see "Atlanta Bread," "Starbuck's" and "Seattle's Best." Since we didn't have the Mac-Baby with us, he couldn't sense the Starbuck's, so I pointed the other way, towards the Atrium, and the "Wendy's- open 24/7". He asked permission to hurry on ahead. I smiled at him to go on.
Buster and I went to "Seattle's Best" and got a chocolate milk, and a plain coffee. He was amazed at the size of the cinnamon rolls. "Yeah," I said as he pointed, "Those are as big as your head!" He's 6, so of course, he copied me, loudly, "Yeah! that's as big as my HEAD!" Which the cashier heard. It made her snicker. :)
Sipping our drinks, we slowly made our way towards the Delta counter. It took us quite a while, due to the dinosaur. Yep, there's a dino fossil skeleton in the Atrium. We admired it, talked about the number of toes on the front legs, inspected the teeth and decided it was a carnivore. Then, admitting that, no, we shouldn't touch it, we decided to finally move on towards the Delta counter.
Have you SEEN the Delta counters? It's seriously next-gen.
They totally make the other whole terminal look like a lot of Hardee's employees with steno pads and ball point pens...
Anyway, we waited to see if we would have to take any of Dad's stuff back home with us. Which would be bad, because he only packed what he thought he would need. It turned out, the big bag was 5 pounds too heavy, but he transferred his spare boots to the carry on, and everything was cool.
After that, we went back to the other airline agent, trying to get money issues worked out. Buster and I took a picture of the fascinatingly creepy giant fire ants sculptures. We said our goodbyes.
Buster and I were back on the highway by 7 am (our time). And I realized, as I posted a quick Facebook status, that I had done all that, before I normally wake up! Actually, I would be back at home around the time I normally get out of bed. Crazy.
So- for Mike, we plan for the worst, and are pleasantly surprised if my luck ever wins out. As he put it, "that's the luck of the Irish for you."
Update: he texted me a while ago. He made it to San Jose, and Santa Cruz. I din't hear whether the duffle bag did too.
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