The alarm nudged me out of a deep sleep at 4:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning. Tuesday, May 27, the last day of what was a practically perfect 8-day whirlwind of joy, laughter and yes, a few tears.
We caught the 4:30 a.m. shuttle bus to National Airport in Washington, D.C. and upon arrival we hastily hugged, kissed and said good-bye to my monkey sister and her hubby before the shuttle whisked them off to the next terminal. Our visits are few and far between, but we always pick up right where we leave off… until the next time.
If you have not yet been gifted with the TSA preapproved check-in, I can only say that it is truly a gift. It’s almost as if you’re following the yellow brick road to the Emerald City where the great and powerful
Oz TSA agent, will grant you 3 wishes. No shoes off, no prescription meds pulled out and the creme dela creme, no taking out of the laptop. Just walk right through to Kansas. What glory is this?!
But the airlines won’t let you off that easy. Oh, no, no, no. Once you’re at the gate it’s a game of 1, 2, 3, 4, or the dreaded 5th line to board the plane. NO! Not the 5th line! Fortunately, for us, we breezed on in 2nd position.
It’s such a game. The airlines charge for checked baggage so of course everyone wants to haul everything on the plane with them, but for the poor schmucks who are stuck in the 5th line from hell, good luck finding room in the overhead storage. The trick is though, if this happens to you, the airline has to check your bag – at the gate – and they don’t charge you. And if you’re carrying something fragile in your carry-on bag, pad it well because the person next to you (and the flight attendants) will push/shove/cram your bag any which way they can in order to get theirs in; to the point of ridiculousness. And while I’m on this rant, don’t you love it when you’re in your aisle seat and the same person who is smashing your bag has their front body parts right at your eye level practically in your face? Augh! 🙁
But as I said in my last post, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and get on that damn flying sardine can because you’ve got to get from point A to point B in as little time as possible. And, to my knowledge they have not yet built a bridge across the Atlantic Ocean should you happen to be on your way to Europe. I don’t see that happening, but a girl can hope.
And so as we winged our way back across the country – and as I tried to keep myself entertained in order not to go stir crazy – from Washington, D.C. to Chicago to Portland, I couldn’t help but think back on the remarkable journey we just completed.
A journey that two days earlier found us on top of a mountain in Virginia overlooking the serene Shenandoah Valley, the most picturesque back drop for a wedding one could hope to experience. A wedding. The words fill my heart. There is nothing quite like watching your son – your only child – marry the love of his life; knowing that this moment in time will forever fill your heart with laughter, joy and yes, a few tears.