Arrival

The continuing saga of my novel: Jettison

, 1999

We arrive in San Diego in 55 minutes and prepare to deplane. It's only 8 rows to the exit - due to the free for all nature of the seats and the fact I got on early (there were pass through passengers).
Age does have its perks.
Couple this with the fact that my son actually helped me off of the airplane (he says I need to hire an assistant) - the jewelry and the "Jettison" manuscript are heavy.
We find out luggage fast - I do my tumble it off the belt trick while my son stands amid the growing pile.
Once this is established, we find that we are in terminal 1 and Troy is coming in to Terminal 2.
My son decides that we shall walk.
Walk? Towing stuff?
He decides we have sat around too much. Got to work off the chicken.
Says his sick, tired old mother needs the exercise.
Right.
So I hook the heavy bag on the rolling suitcase (I brought the medium sized one) and roll along, the Evil Alien laser canon in the other hand.
And we walk.
And walk.
And walk.
And finally find terminal 2.
Oh, but Continental is at the far end.
So we keep walking.
And, finally, I spot Troy.
Great.
I get a big hug (required) and he gets the weapon.
WE find his luggage.
And then we walk some more - out and around construction and across to an island to await the shuttle to Hertz - because San Diego has moved car rentals off-site.
And then we wait.
And wait.
And we get the shuttle. I get help lifting that bag up the steps. And we ride around to the rental office.
I get a green car.
Now, I asked for a mid-sized - with two 6'2-3" guys,....
I didn't know that a mid-sized car was a compact with four doors.
I now do.
It is a green car - and I am glad they have muscles because it is an act of Herculean force to shove the luggage into this car. My son rides with the canon in his lap.
Troy is in the passenger seat (we later figure out that my son needs to sit behind me so Troy has a little more room.
After two stops to re-read directions, I manage to loop around a bit on 15 until we read the tiny print correctly. I find the hotel.
It is, remarkably, under construction - the lobby is a mess.
We have adjacent (not adjoining) rooms in the newer area - huge two queen sized bed rooms. Lovely. Spa behind (I never got there.)
My son has his own room on this trip. He has decided he is old enough.
So I indulged him.
We settle for 5 minutes then drive out for a light supper at a TGIF.
Troy was teasing me all the way up the freeway about taking my son back out to Dirty Dan's - this is a local legend topless place - there are two of them on our route.
I threatened to go along.
This boggles my son.
Funny how the men in the car noticed all these little places as we drove.
Troy is nursing his wrist - from the extreme sports competition he had earlier this week.
I had e-mails posting his progress (and injuries) every few hours.
He is injured - his leg. But the leather pants cover a world of sin....
He also has a scrape on his side.
Oh no!
(Doesn't show.)
I am busy being a roadside beacon - I hadn't taken Xanax or Aleive or Tylenol - I forgot. Put me on an airplane and I still turn red!
Once finished, we head back for sleep.
It is three hours later for Troy and I want him rested.
I retire to tea and frizzy hair (different weather) and take my medication to cut the glow (my face feels hot to the touch - very uncomfortable).
I set my alarm and remember nothing 'til morning.
A very overdue night's sleep. Lovely.
Of course, I called my child in his room just before retiring - he was annoyed.
I'm a Mom.
What can I say?