Leaving San Diego

The continuing saga of my novel: Jettison

, 1999

We cannot have a trip without trauma.
Must have trauma or it is not proper travel.
I had a 4AM wakeup call and I have my kid up and moving and I am up and moving, or so I think and, with my door propped open, Troy pops over to check that we are all up and moving.
He looks awful good for this hour of the morning!
I think I am all packed (I left my makeup mirror - a 7x - stuck on the wall.)
I cannot make the stairs with my luggage so I leave it there for the boys and head over to check out. Troy heads to the car to defrost it and get it warmed up for me.
Nice thought!
I am not used to that kind of pampering!
They tool around the parking lot, the two of them, while I do the money changing bit inside. Then it's off - no breakfast - just a dead run to the airport.
Me at the wheel. 6'2" Troy finally got my son into the seat behind me and got the seat back a bit (he has long legs) and my 6'3" son was ensconced sideways in the rear seat holding the now re-boxed-up laser canon in his lap.
I make like a scared rabbit and try to fly down the freeway in the darkness, in what passes for early morning rush hour in San Diego - we'd laugh at such a thing if we ever saw the freeway this clear in Silicon Valley.
I miss the airport exit.
Of course.
So I loop through the city, hitting every ^%*^*&^ red light there is and get back up the freeway - Troy and my son assisting in the navigation.
Oh.
First, I had to get gas. I said that I had no idea how to put gas in this car. Troy knew where to fill it on this strange little green car - and I had the credit card. I can handle that.
Notice I can easily become dependant on having a man assist me!
Voila - again with their help, I find Hertz.
And we nearly run over the little check- in crew - No - I do not want to be at the end of a long line - I go for the front - less walking.
The boys give up trying to tell me which lane to get in. The check-in crew give up waving at me and let me park.
We get checked in at Hertz, and then I notice the time and that there is no shuttle in sight.
I begin to loose it.
Troy attempts to defuse me - tells me it won't change anything - But I insist on bouncing around. Anxious women must be allowed to vent!
Yes, there is the shuttle supposed to be coming.
And no, there isn't another flight until 10AM - so the 6:30AM is the one I need to be on.
Troy has a 7AM flight.
The boys get the stuff loaded into the eventual shuttle and we go. Slow as molasses. This is not like the madcap driver -type I had in San Francisco!
And we get off first.
I get a quick hug from Troy and a promise to do this again (I insist I will - watch me) and we are off.
The bag comes down, I drag it to its wheels and grab the canon.
Because, now we must reverse the process - and we race inside.
There is a line and it is almost 6:30AM - departure time for the flight!
I ask at the desk - can we make it? - "Yes, just stay in line."
They know not what is coming.
"We have a gun - not a real one - a prop - and it's fragile - and here's tape after you look at it and here's a garbage bag if you want to take out the popcorn."
(The boys - Ron, Troy and my son - had done this at the shoot - and repackaged it after. Boys like puzzles. Airline people do not.)
The attendant at the counter said ...."Is it real."
"It needs to be declared to be a firearm."
"Sign here."
"We'll get it scanned and onto the plane."
They taped the box shut. Their tape.
We got the baggage checks and ran for the gate - and got passes and straight to the plane - about the last ones on.
We go to the back - my son is the row ahead of me - we are in middle seats.
I never got to use a restroom - so I get up when we are almost level and use one on-board - like the stewardess said, "We suggest you remain seated but we can't stop nature".
Nope. Not after all that agitation.
We land without fuss, make the green parking lot shuttle, and get to the truck.
I blitz out and get my son to college - 1 hour late - but there. I race home and discharge the luggage, mostly by tumble and roll maneuvers, feed the animals, do a swift change of clothes and run to work, right through the typical Silicon Valley 880-237 traffic mess.
San Diego was blue sky.
I am in storm clouds and drizzle. And heavy, crawling traffic in my truck.
Guess where I would rather be?
I actually got work done today.
Amazing.
I think my body suit has the letter "S" on the chest. People swear I have a red cape and blue tights stashed somewhere.
Actually, I do!