Yesterday was a travel day! (Make of that exclamation point what you will!) From the home of our grandson G-Man to the home of our four granddaughters. It involved three legs of flying. And nail-biting stand-by status. And getting bumped multiple times. And praying that the next flight we were trying to get on wouldn't be overbooked. And when our final flight got delayed several hours, it also involved a trip to Budget Rent-a-Car, because we just couldn't wait to get where we were going (and we knew that if we drove the rest of the way, we would be there before that last flight even took off).
It was tough to leave this little guy, after a nice visit with him in VA.
But we knew that on the other end, we were going to see our precious little gals.
Hey, you know what? I think I'll show you what our day looked like, and just let the pictures do [most of] the talking for me.
These days when I look out my window and contemplate how beautiful the world looks up at 30,000+ feet, I don't know why I was ever so afraid to fly. (Then I remind myself that OH YEAH, my newfound courage in the air is almost 100% due to the little people in the above photos, and the fact that none of them live down the street from their Grammy!)
Here are the spectacular views from yesterday's travels.
Another reason I have more courage when I fly now is that I always, always have my wingman, St. Joseph, on board with me. I hold my St. Joseph prayer card during take-off and say the Unfailing Petition to this powerful saint, and I figure everything will be okay.
Diet Coke is another thing I usually have with me when I fly; but it's not really a wingman--it's more of a security blanket.
As is coffee.
On this particular flight, they were not offering Biscoff cookies as a snack--and those would have tasted a lot better with my coffee than pretzels. But when you're flying non-revenue stand-by, you don't complain about such things. (Even if you want to.)
I usually let my husband lead the way, as we run from one end of the airport to the other. So this was my view for a lot of the day yesterday.
Follow that Notre Dame cowboy. That was my mantra.
I also let him deal with the gate agents when we get bumped from flights and have to make other arrangements. So this was another frequent site yesterday.
We enjoy traveling together, even when things aren't going according to plan--say, when we've been up since 4:00 a.m. and we think we're going to reach our destination by 1:30 p.m. (in a perfect world!), but then we end up arriving at about 9:00 p.m., after our sweet granddaughters have gone to bed. :(
Even when it's not, it's always fun...as long as we're together.
We take pit stops at airport fast food joints and turn them into dates.
Nowadays, I always wear my Liz Claiborne flats (a J.C. Penney steal, fashioned to look like way-more-expensive designer shoes by Michael Kors or Tory Burch) when we're doing the jet-setter routine. They are the comfiest shoes on the planet.
They have sneaker-like soles on them. Perfection. Sheer perfection.
I once wore a pair of stylish-but-uncomfortable wedge sandals on a trip to San Juan with my husband (he was at the controls, while I proudly sat in the back thinking, "That's right: my husband is driving this thing!"), and they hurt my feet so much--and gave me such epic blisters--that I left them behind in our hotel room. Good riddance! And lesson learned: comfy flats are always the way to go when you've got a long day of hoofing it through airports at a jogging--or maybe even
sprinting--pace ahead of you. Always.
Well, my husband is in the next room making the twins scream with laughter, and I'm having some serious FOMO. So bye for now!
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