We headed out of our hotel at 4 AM Wednesday. Banjo Man was very, very unhappy with the weight of our luggage. He said so many, many times.
His suitcase was heavy, too. Banjo Man’s initial statement of, “My suitcase will be almost empty, so we’ll take home all the jam you want,” had changed to, “We are never taking jam home again! Never!”
He had a lot to say as we staggered down the sidewalk and across the street to the Southwest check-in line (we would later discover that the Ramada had a shuttle that would have made life easier).
To add more insult to his morning, he did not get the TSE preboarding designation yet again. I did. While I waited on the other side of the lengthy security process, BIL George joined me and we watched Banjo Man mouth some very bad words as he repacked his two carry ons. He was surrounded by the Univ. of Idaho womens’ volleyball team, which then seemed to cheer him a bit.
None of us would stand in line for $4 Starbucks coffee–no matter how good it smelled–so we went to the gate to spend a few last minutes together before boarding. Then it was onto a flight that, after cruising to the runway, had to return to the gate. A Southwest employee somehow had to be returned to the airport. We never did understand it, but she was seated in front of us and seemed to be confused, too.
Beautiful scenes from the plane as we flew over southern Idaho, Montana and Colorado:
On to Denver, where I kissed Banjo Man goodbye and left the plane to catch a flight to Austin. He would go on to Baltimore, and then home. Daughter Nancy would pick him up at 8 PM, his checked baggage would be lost, and he would not find his car keys in his carry on bag (if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that Banjo Man has lost several sets of car keys and endangered our happy marriage on more than one occasion).
Will, Son #2, was waiting for me. I had slept all the way from Denver to Austin, so I was feeling pretty chipper. Will also made a comment about the weight of my luggage, which I ignored. We went out for dinner and brought slices of apple pie home.
Daughter Nancy texted to ask where I kept my car keys. Banjo Man’s luggage had been located in New Jersey.
Time to go to bed.
Today the Funny Grandson will arrive and tell me all about the KISS concert he went to in Dallas last night. In preparation he had grown his hair long, like the original KISS drummer, and intended to have his face painted.
Oh. My. Goodness.