Getting There and Back

“Can you print off directions to the airport?” I'm pretty much positive those were my wife's last words as she wandered off to bed. We were leaving for the airport at 4:00 am for a 6:45 am flight. The minivan was already packed with the suitcases. (the kids each had their own, plus one suitcase of food ((since we were going to the uncivilized U.S. Virgin Island of St. Croix, we had to take along enough food to last us a week in the wilds...)) a suitcase of toys ((As everyone knows, toys only exist in the U.S. Propper)) and our snorkeling gear. Our suitcase was still being filled with whatever had been forgotten.)

Before I fell asleep, I printed the plane tickets, hotel information and a map to the airport. It wasn't until we'd started off that I realized “Can you print off directions to the airport.” actually meant “and be sure to include the directions I followed a long time ago that included going down, I think, Interstate 70.... or maybe it was 79... but in any case I'm positive it wasn't the way you printed.”

Even with my bad directions, we made it to airport (at 4 am, there isn't a whole of traffic on the road and driving on two wheels around the corners tends to open the lane in front of you...)

Once we'd made it through security, we were off to the races. My wife asked which gate we needed to go to. When I traveled for work, gates actually had a meaning. They were a nice stroll between flights where you could stop for a beer or a coffee (depending on the time of day and how rough the previous flight was.). Sometime over the past several years, that has changed. I now know all airports only have two actual gates. The one you just arrived at and the one you have to drag two tired kids and their bags to. The distance between them is exactly inverse to how tired the kids are and how soon the next flight leaves.

At San Juan, my wife had the nerve to ask where the gate was. Our connecting flight left at 12:15, our flight, running a wee bit late, arrived at 12:15. The kids had been up since 3:30 a.m. And hadn't taken a nap. According to my calculations, the gate for our connecting flight was located, roughly, in Alaska.

To my surprise, we did make the connecting flight and arrived in St. Croix to start our vacation in the sun.

After a week of “island time” there's a slight chance we cut it a wee bit close getting back to the airport. The U.S. Air person that checked us in was very clear (I think if she hadn't spent 15 minutes stressing how late we were and how we would probably not make it through customs, we wouldn't have had to run so fast.) that the plane was on the verge of leaving and customs alone would take a minimum of two weeks.

So, we each grabbed a kid and bags and ran. After a harrowing 10 minute race through customs, security, another bag check, a game of scrabble (just checking to see if you are paying attention) we made it to the gate on St. Croix. My wife and kids were cleared and I got the dreaded “Do you mind if we check your carry on?” from the security guard. I waved a tearful goodbye to my family and wondered if I could somehow make another flight, this week. After my carry on was swabbed (it didn't even get a drink first.) I raced to the gate (ok. It was just around the corner and my family was always visible. But it sounded much more dramatic.)

“Our plane hasn't arrived yet.” You'd be surprised at just how clearly the swear words came out as my wife greeted me.

In San Juan, my wife asked which gate again. I muttered “Alaska,” and hoisted my daughter up on my shoulders. We arrived at gate 4 and had to get to gate 8. A mere 4 gates, you might be thinking, but you forget the letter. We arrived in concourse D and had to get to gate Epsilon. (I'm pretty sure we wandered through the entire Russian alphabet before we hit Latin.)

After quite a few hours, several hundred miles of airport terminals, we made it back to Pennsylvania and to the minivan. In all, there were only a few melt-downs, but the kids ignored them. The only question as I left the airport was, “Why was everyone driving on the wrong side of the road?”