Flying In for the Photo Shoot

The continuing saga of my novel: Jettison

, 1999

It's Monday - the day before the first photo shoot with Troy.
Notice I said FIRST.
I am ambitious.
I spent the day packing and running to the bathroom. Stress? Allergies? Flu?
Who knows.
The effect is the same.
Incapacitation.
A sign I need to go back on my diet - no real food!
Worst possible time.
Murphy's law.
I did manage to get my son to his college classes (Please get your driver's license!!!)
I did manage to get to the bank.
I did manage to get to Mailboxes Etc. and pack the gun.
And I did manage not only one but two trips to Longs for pills.
Ick.
I bathed - twice. (Anything to settle the insides.)
Made and ate Tapioca pudding (boiling milk helps this - whatever it is.)
And took Lactaid to counteract the milk.
I watched TV. Makeovers.
And cleaned the litter pan.
And cleaned the Chinchilla cage.
When Mothers are ill - they clean. It's in the genetic code.
I fed and watered rabbits. One left from our foray into raising rabbits. One that I rescued from the streets.
Then the dog.. Then the two cats, who now know that something is afoot.
The family room floor is littered with suitcases (more than we will take) because I tried to get the gun in one. And I need 4-6 outfits for 2-3 days.
And I couldn't decide.
And now that I know I am traveling ill, I forgo the body suit and travel in loose fitting velvet pants and a big shirt. Makes me look like a soft cushion.
I have a ski jacket for early mornings and late evening. Several pairs of shoes. Flats for the plane. And hiking in the airport.
And I am carrying the manuscript for "Jettison" because - in case the house burns down - I can have it retyped from hardcopy.
Paranoid.
I have to work out off-site storage. When I get back. Except - this copy has sticky notes all over it - no such thing as backup on edits!
The storm that swept through here yesterday took branches off the neighbors tree and the city has descended - all out trimming of a big, wide limbed, 40-year old shade tree is in process - translation, sawdust everywhere.
Driving around requires driving around the trucks.
The animals are secure. Food and water doubled up.
By 2:15PM the house is secure , and I abandon my furry children to recover the human one.
After, of course, I finish his packing and load the truck, by myself. The luggage now in the car, I pull out around the city and head for the campus.
To say we were early for the airport is an understatement. We are moving slow, we unload things. Check things out.
Yep, he forgot his luggage strap.
Yes, I have too much - well, I have 4 vests for Troy, the laser canon in its very long box, and the body oil. The rest is necessary stuff. Just not the kitchen sink (in lieu of that I have packed water bottles).
We sat on the tailgate in the long term parking lot munching Togo's Chicken sandwich remains and consuming water.
I haven't eaten since the 2 1/2 Cups of tapioca this morning. Boiled Tapioca and 3 Amodium AD Advanced formula - works for me. Sort of.
Next, we figure out how to get to the shuttle - since I have forgone the short term parking for lack of knowledge of how to get there and what it costs, I choose the familiar every time. We are in 20-2-I - a triangle. Good. I always misplace my truck.
At the mall this spring, I had to have security go look for it. I notice this service is at most malls now.
Lots of us beleaguered older women milling around looking for our trucks.
I lock the truck, we hike over and catch the shuttle.
My son lifts the bag I have been rolling - mine - by one hand.
Show off!
At the terminal, we go for the escalator.
Big mistake!
My bag caught on the corner.
I dropped the handle at the first tug and yelled for help.
My son was already above me.
My instincts kick in and I move down the up staircase and tip it back up - no one was assisting me. My son was heading down the stairs.
I was juggling the laser canon.
By the time my son reached me I was up and frozen in place - the bag caught by the stair tread and I was going back up.
I kept telling him I can't handle this!
He gets in position and I jump and stumble away from the bag so he can grab it.
I hope I didn't pull anything - I dropped it pretty fast. All I need is to disturb the hernia repair (and, yes, I can reopen it!).
At the ticket counter, we tell them, "We called ahead". Hey guys, I have a fragile movie prop - a laser canon from the movie Aliens (a model of one actually) packed by Mailboxes etc.
"Is it real?"
"No. It's plastic."
It's too big for carry-on.
It's weighted (heavy little sucker) but it can't fire grenades or laser light or bullets.
"We need to open it."
"OK. - Here's a garbage bag for the popcorn."
"See? It's glued in place."
This after they cut open the box - on the end I said would be easier to re-tape.
They look at the business end - decide not to take it out.
Too much of a mess. Popcorn everywhere.
They tape it back up and hand carry it to the scanner and to the baggage compartment.
Whew!
They say sign here, we are not liable. I sign and say at the same time, oh yes, you are.
$8,000.
The gun, the fees, the plane tickets, the model, etc, and my time to reschedule.
I'd rather have it be OK.
I wonder at how they will get it back off the plane (down the luggage belt of course!).
This makes me nervous.
I feel pulled, panicked and pooped.
We get to the gate - 20 minutes later we get boarding passes - number 8 and 9. South Western is a free for all race for a seat.
$39 tickets.
American wanted, get this, $900!
Ha!
We are "green".
My son is fascinated the cell phone jockeys. The one who went through security, set it off, backed up, and never got off the phone.
He repeated this more than once.
He never stopped talking.
I am still resisting cell phones.
We strike up a conversation with a non-teckie for awhile - he is number 2 - wanted to be number one. It's a game he has going - he does a lot of flying - he had run for the counter.
He's never gotten number 1.
I fix that.
I board early.
How did I do that?
I'm old I say.
I'm slow.
I'm learning to be really frumpy at the airport - look weak and helpless. Or, look too tough to argue with in a suit and heels. Nothing in between.
They let me go - and my big son trots along behind me, having finally picked up the bag I was dragging (not on wheels - just annoyingly heavy).
Slick.
We save the guy a seat so my son and he can chat.
My son is very social.
They chatter off and on all the way down - a really short flight (50-60 minutes). You barely get in the air before you are landing.
Blue sky.
Holy Moly.