The Wedding - Getting to the Airport

I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. In my perfect world I would never have to be any where before 9 or 10 in the morning. I am not living in my perfect world.

Whenever I have to be somewhere very early, I sleep badly and wake up about 15 times before the alarm goes off. At 4:30 I give up on sleep and decide to get up. As I stagger (literally) out of bed, the guest room door opens and out comes dad, dressed and ready to go. Dad suffers from the same disease that Ducky does, though they try to be quiet it is just not something they are capable of. I realize I better get going before dad wakes up the entire house. They would have been horrible ninjas.

I cannot start my day without a shower. One of the many reasons I don't care for camping. Showered, dressed and as ready I can ever be at five in the morning, I head downstairs. Dad is at the dining room table drinking instant coffee. He starts to talk, loudly, in our dining room where the vault sends the sound right up the stairs to the bedrooms. I respond with, "Shall we go?"

Bags in the car, us in the car, car on the road. We are off. Oops, I forgot to get cash. We head to the credit union (aka free atm) so I can get cash. The credit union is right across the street from Starbucks. I sadly note that not even Starbucks is open this early. I get zero sympathy from dad.

We are off to the airport as I begin to regret ever agreeing to being the good sister and spending a weekend with dad and not with two of the cutest boys around. At that time of the morning, I was on auto pilot and headed onto the freeway in the wrong direction. An omen, perhaps? Fortunately, I know more than one way to the airport.

We arrive at the economy lot without incident. Dad wanted to be dropped off at the shuttle shelter while I parked. Great idea. He could hang onto the bags while I pray my parking kharma hangs on. No such luck. I end up parking about a mile away and have to trot to the shelter as I see several buses drive past. Dad is at the first stop, and is waiting for me. And it was cold. I don't like early and I don't like cold. I better be getting lots of points for this.

While attempting to get off the shuttle, my bag stops rolling, I step in the crack and nearly go head over heels. I am rather experienced at klutziness and manage to not fall flat. And just like that we are off to see what gate we are headed to and wind through security.

I have neglected to mention that dad can't hear. Or more specifically, he can't hear me. I say something to him, I get a "What?!" and then I yell what I said. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

The night before I told him not to wear both the suspenders and the belt. He didn't listen. While I sailed through security, dad did not. I find myself holding my suitcase, shoes, purse, dad's suitcase, coat, shoes and glasses, while watching him get wanded and patted down. I have to keep an eye on his wallet during the whole process.

Once they have determined that dad doesn't pose a security threat, we are free to proceed to our gate. But first, dad has to get put back together. Dad decides that it is too much effort to thread the belt through the loops, instead choosing to fasten it over the top of the jeans. Which leads me to wonder why he wears it in the first place, if his suspenders are doing all the work anyway?