Jeff’s coming home from his two-day trip to a POWUR conference in San Diego! Oh, happy day!
Only one hitch: the plane will arrive early Monday morning. Well, one thing you have to know is that neither one of us is an early-riser. We wake up around ten and eat breakfast at noon. So, in order for me to meet his plane on time at 5:09 a.m, I set my alarm for 3:30 a.m to allow time to take a shower, fix my face, and choose my outfit. Since the route to the airport is still fresh on my mind, and Jeff has said the plane would arrive at Terminal E, all I need to do is get there and follow the road to “arrivals”. Check, check, and check. Gotcha.
On second thought, make that, “don’t gotcha”.
6:10 a.m. — I awake with a start, wondering why it’s already so bright, outside. I glance at the time. Yikes! Jeff must wonder where the heck I am! Sure enough, there are five messages from Jeff.
“Where R U?”
and, finally, “Phone battery going down.”
So, while I’m trying to wake up, I call him to say I’m on my way as soon as I throw on some clothes.I have no idea why my alarm didn’t wake me up.
“No hurry, babe,” he says. “Just get here soon as you can.”
So I throw on my clothes, brush my teeth, and grab my purse. This time, I know which exit to take and which lane to be sure I’m in. Before I know it, I pull up in front of Terminal E and text “Here.”
So where is my hot and sexy husband?
“No, you’re not,” he replies.
Ack! Okay, Kim. Circle around, again..
Well, anyone who has been to DFW Airport, recently, can understand. There is no such thing as a quick turn-around. After finding my way out of a tunnel of construction and winding up almost to the toll gate, I see a lane way over to the left marked “Return to Terminals”.
Thank you, Jesus, I whisper, as I scooch on over to the left.
A bell clangs in my head.
“Round Two. We’re going to get it right, this time.”.
Alas and alack, minutes later, I wind up in the same place: “Departures”. Where did I go wrong, I wondered. I flogged myself a couple of times and smacked my forehead, just for good measure.
As I take the other fork on the “Arrivals” and “Departures” ramp , I choose the path I didn’t take the first two times.
Now this is looking familiar, I’m thinking, as warm fuzzies encircle me. But it gets even better when I see Jeff approaching. I’ve finally done it right. After he throws his bag in the back, he comes around to my side to let me out and drive us home.
Out of curiosity, I pull out my phone which I had set for 3:30 a.m….or so I thought. I had even double-checked it. But, after two nights of sleeping fitfully and alone, I should have known better than to trust my foggy brain.
On our way home, I pull out my phone and check the time I had set for the alarm. I was halfway right. I did set it for 3:30…P.M? With love and understanding in his bloodshot eyes, Jeff chuckles. “My bride,” he says, patting my knee.
So here we are, back at home. I have survived another harrowing trip to DFW International Airport. As Jeff snores, upstairs, I’m downstairs in my recliner, Mac in lap, mighty thankful I’m alive to tell the tale.