The have computers here! I'm supposed to limit myself to thirty minutes, but considering there are only 3 other people in here and one family stalking their own child with a D400 while I practice some benign neglect, I think I'm ok.
We arrived at the airport after a 4 am wakeup call on Saturday morning. No one was more disgusted to hear the "marimba" going off at the crack of dawn than me. With our $90 (semi-crappy) dinner a faint memory and no shops open in the airport, promises of airplane cookies were made. I upgraded us all to business class. I know those tiny butts didn't need more seat or leg room, but it made me happier, and Hudson practically had a cot for which to take his $300 nap. Until after landing. But I saved him some cookies from the stewardess.
About halfway through the flight I went to look for my camera to have our picture taken on the plane. My black recyclable shopping (extra classy) carry-on was no where to be found. NO WHERE. If I had been Samuel L. Jackson, I would have turned that plane around, but I'm not, so I settled for furious tears and illegal texting. Once we got close enough to the ground and those text messages actually reached their intended recipients, I learned that Air Tran had found my bag, one of the gate attendants had turned the camera on and recognized us enough to put names with the faces, checked my emergency contacts, and called my husband. Who proceeded to have a mini stroke until the person not only identified they were from the airlines, but that they were calling about a camera, not my unexpected death. Haley had done the smart thing and gone back to the hotel before she made the trek home, and she was able to go and get the camera and the children's coats from the airport. So it is safe at home. Which is where it was before I called Tim from Decatur, AL and told him I had forgotten to pack it in the first place.
On another note, but still important, if the business class stewardess who takes the initial drink orders before takeoff hadn't been such a bitch, pretending like we weren't even there, I would have asked her to take our picture before takeoff and realized my camera was out in the gate area and not on the plane. But she skipped over us, barely even acknowledging our existence and taking everyone's orders before my obviously excited and well behaved charges.
My brother and my Dad were waiting on us as we emerged from the dark recesses of Atlanta airport's tram system. We made it to my brother's house after a short stop at McDonald's for breakfast for the hooligans.
This impossibly tiny, cute baby was waiting on us there. My brother braved taking all of the big boys to the grocery store. He is not immune to the powers of persuasion displayed by small evil humans, and came home with more junk than a 7-11.
The testosterone in the house is stifling.
And so, as a treat, I took all the boys to this jumpy place after lunch at Waffle House. And forgot my book. So you get this entry. Their time is running short and there have been no naps. We are vacating the jumpy place. It just happens to coincide with the exact amount of time it took me to write and quasi-edit this entry! How convenient!
Whew! I'm glad you found your bag! Sounds like a fun time ;)
Posted by: SJ | December 13, 2009 at 10:09 PM