So, same airport, next day-I am starting to sense a pattern. I left the
house at 4:15 Amanda time for a 5:40 pm flight. The clock in that mini van
claimed it was 4:39. Hmmmmm. Well, traffic was fortunately was with us, and
I successfully managed to load and reload onto the parking shuttle a
slightly oversized suitcase, a carseat, a stroller, a hiking backpack, a
small carryon, Yellow Baby, and two hyper children. I am congratulating
myself on a job well done, all by myself you know, with no husband/beast of
burden, when I notice that the clock over shuttle bus drivers head
say-4:58. Hmmmm... So I inform Chicken Little that she is now Big Sissy in
Charge of Fast Running, and we ran. I ran through the doors and the empty
que line for US Air reassured me that all was going to be fine. I make the
obvious decision to tuck under the que lines instead of waiting. Near
decapitation ensues. Big Sissy in Charge of Fast Running screams. Little
Sissy in Charge of Fast Following drops her pacifer and stares. Don't
worry, everyone is staring as the stroller falls off the suitcase, the
suitcase takes out the pole, and the stretchy cord gets tangled in my hair.
Everyone is staring at the crazy women who took out half the que line,
nearly threw a suitcase into an old couple, and was desperately trying
untangle her hair, all while shouting at two small children 20 feet away.
The most important part of the story is that we actually weren't flying US
After that little snafu, all was smooth sailing. Straight through security, they were already boarding the plane of course, and it was smooth sailing from there. Except for in Chicago, when Big Sissy in Charge of Fast Running decided to come to a complete halt in the middle of the walkway to stare aimlessly at a water fountain, thereby causing a 65 year old man to literal fall on the ground. Other than that, we are now at our favorite Aunt's house, ready to party kid style.