CafeChatNoir

My Lord, Sir Edmund Hillary headed off to the top of the damn mountain with less drama. Granted, he had better sherpas than my brother & myself, but still…

The wake up. Last night she repeatedly asked my brother to make sure she was up w/plenty of time to spare. Totally reasonable request, but he’s really not the one to ask. I assured her we’d get her up at 6. Well, this morning, my alarm goes off at 5:45 (I knew I’d want at least one whack at the snooze button) and she must have heard it, cause at 6 she was up and dressed. Cool, better than last year where she was *so* asleep, I thought she was dead for a couple seconds. First comment I get when we get downstairs, “Well, good thing we didn’t count on .” Well, YOU were the one that kept asking HIM to handle it, and you’ve known him for 30 years. Told her he would be getting up shortly, and that I had told him I would handle the whole up at the crack of dawn thing. Next thing I know, it’s 6:30 and she’s thinking he’s just not going to come to the airport. Like hell he isn’t. So, I go kick him out of bed, even though he really doesn’t need to be up til 6:55, cause I am not dealing with the drama on my own.

Then she’s worried she doesn’t have enough $1s for the skycaps, etc. Yes, she does. Her ticket! THERE ARE NO FUCKING TICKETS ANYMORE!! ALL YOU HAVE IS A CONFIRMATION NUMBER! AND YOU HAVE IT! AND DON’T REALLY EVEN NEED IT! “It’s all there, Grandma, no worries.” Her housekeys… “Give me a minute, I’ll find them in your purse.”

In the car. At 7. To be there by 8:12 for the “2 hour deadline” which really is 1 1/2-2 hours and NOT a deadline, it’s not like they’ll refuse you access to the plane if you arrive only 1 hour and 58 minutes before takeoff. Now, I figured this would give us enough time and a few minutes to spare, even with traffic. At 7:25 she is fretting that we won’t get there in time. WE STILL HAVE 50 MINUTES! AND THEN SOME! “Oh, we still have plenty of time.” Well, there was damn near no traffic this morning so we were there before 8…

Dropped them at the curb so could handle check in, get his gate pass, et al, while I parked the car. I’ll admit, the trip from the parking lot to the terminal was a leisurely stroll. Get to the terminal and can tell from the look on my brothers face that she is getting twirled up. Apparently no one was at the ticket counter yet and they had to wait a few minutes (gosh, I wonder why), Grandma thought they were being ignored when they took her ID and stuff and had to go to another computer terminal to get that taken care of, and come to find out, they will NOT let you take a wheelchair on your own - you MUST have an escort. OK, fine.

Off to security. This is where my brother almost assaulted a TSA person as he took forever staring at my grandmother’s boarding pass & ID like he’d never seen anything like it before. Now, this is where the escort did come in handy, cause I had told my brother to NOT let my grandmother out of his sight, after the year where security took her to a room and LEFT HER THERE. The escort assured him she’d be with her the whole time and she wouldn’t get abandoned so he could wait on the other side of security.

An hour and a half later of wandering around the airport, she’s on the plane. It’s been a very, very long 2 weeks.