Departure to Florida

2000

Believe it or not, I was calm. I was going through the routine of deciding what to bring (too much) and packing medication and make-up (too much) and choosing the suitcases and all that stuff you do. Film? Check. Camera? Check. Tickets? Check them twice.
My hair was neat enough. My curlers packed. Expensive hotel so I left the mixer and the hairdryer and the kitchen sink home. Well, part of it anyway.
In the midst of this well-rehearsed flurry, my child tells me he should have been up. Seems that thing he and his brother were going to is NOW not this evening! So my older child arrives and the young one stumbles forward.
But wait. I did the bank thing. I had cashed out two $100 bills (I hate them) and got a bunch of 20-dollar bills. And some extra besides.
I need to give him money to back up the food I'd stocked the house with. Just in case. He can always bike to Togo's. Or McDonalds. Or out for Pizza. He even knows how to phone order that.
The older one drops off two more 100-dollar bills. Paying back on that loan.
The younger one gets $120 in twenties. Then asks for an extra $20 for the ticket for his brother.
Smooth operators these two. In one hand - right out the other. Under 5 minutes.
They then wander off, and wander right back almost immediately to ask directions to the 580 freeway.
I finish - still not rushing and load my own truck - still not rushing - and make the drive to the airport.
One problem.
Never done this on a holiday.
Long term parking - the green lot I always use -- is closed for work. The Orange and yellow lots are full. We are directed somewhere else.
I do the loop around the airport - now is a high state of panic. I get right back to the entrance with no clue as to where I belong.
Beleaguered, bothered and downright hysterical, I drive toward the long term area - they have humans pulling you over and giving directions. I hand my human a piece of paper.
Help me!
He draws my route and tells me that I drove I past it. Lots of space. Go forth!
I head back - past Terminal A and find --- the parking structure does not have a closed sign - I pull across three lanes (the white van stopped, the cop didn't blink) and into the garage - my older son would have been proud of me - woman determined not to miss her flight.
I get to level 4G and discover one lone space!
I grab it and grabbed the suitcases.
My flight is at ---- Terminal C. Of course.
But I know about shuttles and I get to one after a woman and I discovered how to get out of the parking structure - down the ramps (towing a heavy case!) and asking someone where the blazes America West is.
I arrive at Terminal C at long last and find ---- a massive line and I have 45 minutes to departure.
I get brave and rush to the desk and ask if there is a way to get me to my flight faster.
Maybe curbside (I have an E-ticket).
I am greeted with others due on my flight.
I get them to check in my big case (it's oversized! We should charge you! [Go ahead - just take it!]) They took it. No charge.
I race for the gate.
Now I am in a panic.
And there is ---- a line.
I'm the one who always likes to be there 1 hour early to avoid this. I allowed nearly 2 hours and it was not enough. The plane ride is faster!
We are all fussing. The line is growing. They are boarding. And America West is calling for volunteers to give up seats. This is not a good thing.
I am getting nervous when the guy picks up the mike and declares loudly - the end of my line is the "beautiful woman in purple".........
Me!
Took a moment to register. I am in a Susan Graver purple pantsuit (Easter - lilac) with a deep purple jacket with a sash. Knew I liked that outfit.
Women of my age get ragged on - not compliments.
He does this three more times!
By the time I get up there, he apologizes for the wait etc.
I tell him that any man that tells the world I am beautiful over a loud speaker can take his time.
Made my day.
I made the plane.
Row 4.
Aisle.
Perfect.