Those of you who know us well know that when we travel we don't just travel, we survive. Sometimes barely.
This past week/weekend we were in Los Angeles visiting Paul's grandparents (who are doing great, BTW). Our flight out of LAX was set to depart at 2:50 yesterday afternoon. We had to drop off the rental car, which we did, and we got to the gate about 15-20 minutes before it was supposed to take off. They hadn't started boarding yet so we sat down in the waiting area. About half an hour later they let us on the plane. We were in the second row from the back and got all settled with Ethan, then waited for the rest of the passengers to board. Everyone got on and we just sat there. And kept sitting there... for an hour. Why, you ask? All because the first class lavatory was broken and the maintenance crew was trying to repair it. At 4:00 we finally pulled away from the gate, even though they never fixed the bathroom. Which meant the only working bathrooms were the two in the back, right behind us. So we had people lined up beside our seats for the entire 5-hour flight. Oy. Luckily Paul sat on the aisle. At one point he turned to me and said "Do you know how many butts have touched me in the last three hours?" Poor Paul.
So, our flight that was supposed to land in Dulles at 10:35 didn't touch down until 11:40 or so (that's p.m.). We got on the stupid shuttle bus and I busted ahead to grab a taxi (for those who don't know, we always park our car at the Booz Allen office building that is just down the toll road from the airport, then one of us takes a cab to pick up the car and comes back for the other). Paul took Ethan to get the bags. I got to the taxi waiting area and the line was insane. Paul eventually came and waited in line with me. All told I think we waited 40-45 minutes for a cab. So, it was like 12:40 at this point and when we got to Paul's office and out of the cab we almost broke our necks as the street was a solid sheet of ice. I think Ethan fell at least five times just walking from the taxi to the curb as we waited for Paul to bring the car around. He ran into the parking garage to get the car, got in and... nothing. The battery was DEAD. It was almost 1a.m., but by some divine miracle there was a guy who had just come out of the office and started his car. Paul *begged* him for a jump and after four or five tries finally got the car to start. We didn't get home until 1:30 and Paul and I got to bed around 2:00a.m.
Paul had an all-day meeting in NYC today and was supposed to catch a plane at 7:00 this morning. At 3:30 this morning, the airline called to update him on the status of his flight, but we were way too out of it to answer the phone. Then at 6:20 Paul's cell phone rang; it was his taxi driver saying he would be here in 10 minutes. Poor Paul's alarm didn't go off so he was scurrying about trying to get dressed and ready. He went online to check on his flight and found out it had been cancelled. So he called around and got on an 8:00 flight and was going to drive himself to the airport but once again his car wouldn't start, so there was no making that flight either. We went out and pushed his car over to mine, jumped it and dropped it off at the mechanic (after Paul spent forever scraping all the ice off of my car). Then he got himself on a 12:20 flight and made it to the airport for that one. Unfortunately his flight was delayed indefinitely. He called and left a message around 2:30 saying his flight was about to take off so I guess he made it (I was taking a nap since I never really went back to sleep after the phone rang at 6:20). I don't think he made it in time for the meeting but will be there for the team dinner. Poor guy. I hope he goes to bed early tonight!!!
So yeah... why can't anything ever be simple when we travel?