Wanna Get Away?

For months, October 26, 2013 has been reserved on my calendar to pick up our Australian kin from a cruise ship terminal in Port Canaveral, Fl.  As the Beatles once sang though, “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”  In this case, death is what happened.  My dad passed away in what my grandmother used to refer to as “the wee, small hours of the morning” on October 26, 2013.

My first inclination was to cancel the trip altogether.  Instead, what was to have been a 3+ week road trip was shortened to 13 days.  Instead of driving, my aerophobic wife and I would fly.  After a couple months (at least) of worry and stress, touring nursing homes and finalizing funeral arrangements, a change of scenery sounded pretty good.  We would temporarily trade Ridge Road and Murphy Ford Road and Nine Hills Road for Ocean Ave and Bamboo St and Beach Ave.

But first we had to get there.

We left home shortly after watching the KC Chiefs improve their record to 9-0.   Fortuitously, we were able to leave our our home in the care of a man highly recommended by his parole office for early release and whom the Hollywood Argyles might describe as “a mean motor scooter and a bad go-getter”.  His backup is a large, black, rather surly cat, not a pair to be trifled with in any case.

After a restless night’s sleep at Marriott’s Lambert airport hotel, we boarded the 5:40 am shuttle to the airport.  That’s when the real fun began.  Though we already had our boarding passes and availed ourselves of curbside check-in for our bags, we still had to pass through security.  The first line we came too was fairly short.  Unfortunately, it was reserved for politicians, billionaires, rock stars and foreign royalty.  We took our place at the end of the second line - a lengthy line designated “everybody else”. 

Security is always a challenge for my wife.  With a C-Pap breathing machine and two titanium knees, my wife is the poster girl for TSA training on flight risks.  There is no metal detector in existence my wife won’t set flashing and/or buzzing.  St. Louis was no exception.  I, on the other hand, walked through with nary a sound and began to redress and gather both mine and my wife’s belongings.  When I was fully clothed again, I glanced over and saw the TSA agent rounding second base headed for third with my wife.  That’s about how far I made it with her  – on our honeymoon.  I’m not sure how much farther he made it but when I looked back again he was smoking an e-cigarette and catching his breath. 

After we made it to our gate to await our flight, I heard the following announcement over the P.A. system:  “Would the person who left their rings at the security checkpoint please return and claim them?”  Nope – wasn’t us, but I could definitely understand how easy it would be to do that.  I hope that person was not already on board a plane.

Wife (to husband returning from business trip) – Where is your wedding ring?   Husband – Uh, er, umm – DANG!  I must have left it at the airport security checkpoint!   Wife – Choice (A) I want a divorce!  Or (B) OK, well let’s go shopping for a new ring – FOR ME!

Next stop – Baltimore.  Hey, in case you haven’t shopped airfares lately, tightwads like me (I prefer the term “frugal”) and direct flights are a rare combo.