When I was young, I thought I might have some seer abilities. My aunt would say this was because I wanted to control my life, and she is probably correct, but I knew most times when the phone was going to ring before it did, and this led me to believe I had powers.
I sort of still think that at times.
When my husband first suggested going to Indiana "for my birthday," really so he could cross off see a Notre Dame game off his bucket list, I didn't jump up and down. A football game in South Bend in November?
Me: "It'll be snowing!"
Tom: "in November? Please. It'll be fall weather."
Me: "You truly don't pay attention to happenings in my life, do you?"
But, I understand wanting things, and for some reason, Tom is a Notre Dame fan, and since he rarely takes off of work to do things, who was I to be a Debbie Downer? We bought the plane tickets, alerted my brother and SIL, and my brother scored the tickets to the game.
A week before we left, I had a bad feeling. Two days before we left, it snowed twelve inches in South Bend, and the highest temperatures for the week were 35. The bad feeling returned with a vengeance, and despite excitement at spending time with my family, it didn't go away.
We woke up at 4:00 a.m. I hadn't gone to bed until way after one o'clock after the Steelers game where all the drama occurred, and that sporting event also did not help in contributing to my feelings. Madison was elected to drive us to the airport. I had suggested someone else because the girl had to work a twelve-hour day, and the drive is across the bridge, and, yeah, I didn't feel good about it.
Tom: "Why wouldn't she take us?"
Off we went. Tom drove to the airport and pulled up at the drop-off. We unloaded, kissed Madison, and headed inside. We had only one suitcase, and I stepped up to the kiosk to register it. I got all the way through the process, giving the bag to Tom, and submitted it only to have it come back with an error. I tried it again. Same thing. I moved to another kiosk and started again. This time I gave the suitcase to myself. Success!
While we waited for the tag to print, my phone rang. It was Madison on the other end. Immediately I knew. My hands shook when I answered. She was crying. She had hit another car in the parking lot.
Frankly, that was a relief as it meant she was reachable, but we had to get our luggage tagged and then wait in line for a human to take it. I had to give my license since the case was registered to me. I told the lady my daughter had hit another car. She processed us quickly, and we went outside to find Madison.
Tom got there first. In events like this, I defer to him. It has more to do with him working and earning a paycheck, I think, more than the whole male/female thing. Or maybe not... He stood and surveyed the cars.
I pushed him out of the way and grabbed Madison into a hug. She began sobbing and apologizing and the woman of the car she'd scraped, because really she'd miscalculated on pulling away and the two back ends rubbed against each other, was saying nice things about mother being there for Madison making me think she'd been kind. Apparently, not the case, but I didn't learn about that until later.
We reassured Madison. She'd done everything she'd needed to do with the woman in exchanging information. Tom watched her drive off. We rode the escalator to the shuttle. I opened my wallet to get my license to pass through the agent to the shuttle. Nothing. No license.
I panicked. Tom rolled his eyes. We tried to find the escalator to take us back to the ticket floor, which was harder than we knew. I rechecked my wallet because I couldn't believe the woman hadn't given me back my license. Turns out, I hadn't put it back where it belonged in my need to get to Madison.
Tom: "Are you kidding me?"
I burst into tears. Tom stared at me. I didn't bother to explain.
I wiped my eyes, sucked up my feelings, and we head off to security, where we ended up in different lines due to my misunderstanding of something an agent said. Tom rolled through security. I took forever.
Once we got to the gate, I left to get water. When I returned, Tom was nowhere to be found. Which isn't unusual when we travel. I sat down and promptly called Madison, who had just texted that she was back home. She cried some more. She told me the lady was NOT nice after the scraping incident, yelling and saying unkind things. We talked everything through while I watched group A and group line up to the board. Group C was our boarding letter, and I was wrapping up our phone call when my phone started buzzing.
Me: "I still don't see your dad, but now he's calling me. Why can't the man just sit?"
Turns out, I was at the wrong gate. While I was sitting in the area where the podium to our gate stood, the gate was behind me several feet. The only person in that area was my husband. I started crying again. I gave my boarding pass and went through only to get stopped by the long line of people waiting to board the plane. I turned just in time to see Tom get pulled at the entrance. What?
He disappeared. The line moved. Six more people entered behind me. No Tom. I called his phone, and it went to voice mail. I frantically texted Madison that Tom had been pulled. The line moved. I could no longer see the gate entrance. I called again. Texted. Nothing. I panicked. What to do, what to do? Should I go back? Get on the plane?
Tom answered his phone laughing and then I saw him come around the corner. He had been pulled due to a luggage concern. Apparently, at our kiosk with the errors, it still registered Tom with luggage. He had to go to the airline counter where he had to wait in a long line only to be told all was well and to go back to the gate.
We were stuffed into middle seats on a full plane where I sat next to someone who was sick.
I cried through the taxing and long after we were in the air. Then, I pulled myself together and thanked the good lord we were off.
