Back to the house for last minute items. The plumber never showed yesterday. The sewer contractor is beside himself because he cannot dig up the septic tank and finish the job until the plumber hooks up the house to the sewer line.
Dale called places to donate the van. My parent's paper lady offered to buy the van. My parents agreed and they worked out a contract. The paper lady, Terry, had no problem with parking the van until we could send the title to her in two weeks.
We had a few errands to run and then my mother dropped us off at the Logan Express in Framingham, a couple hours early. We caught the bus and 35 minutes later we gathered up all the luggage in front of the Alaska Airlines terminal. My dad took his suitcase and a carry on. I took my suitcase, my carryon, my mother's computer, his other carryon, my CPAP machine and his other check on bag. I felt like a pack mule. But I really didn't think he could handle more than the two items.
The check-on counter was not open yet. We had to wait an hour. My father gets nervous flying and so he talked continually from noon on. At 1:30 the counter opened and we checked on four bags. We headed for security and my dad took off his shoes and put his one carryon on the belt and tippy-toed through the metal detector. On the other side he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his bag and started off. I was still putting my computer in a bin, my mother's computer in another bin, my CPAP machine in another bin, my computer bag, my mother's computer bag, my CPAP bag, and my shoes in other bins. They stopped the belt when my CPAP came into view and they glanced up at me and glared. "I'm going to run some tests on this," they sneered.
"Dad, dad, wait up." I had the two bins with the two computers, but the bags were on the other side of the CPAP and I had to wait.
My toe hung out of my sock. How did THAT happen. It was fine when I put it on. Honestly it was. I curled my toes under so they wouldn't stick out and saw my father about a hundred feet away, looking around for me. I waved my arms in frantic panic and shifted from one foot to the other. I forgot and my toes stuck out again. They brought the CPAP back and handed it to me with down turned lips. The bags rushed out of the machine now and people were behind me, growling and snarling at the delay...caused by me and my CPAP. I jammed the computers into the bags, zipped the CPAP back into its case, ripped my shoes out of the bin and schlepped the whole mess over to a bench so I could cover my toes with my shoes.
Once on the plane, my father talked, non-stop, poking me in the arm if he felt my attention wavered. This went on the entire trip. My head was splitting by the time the wheels touched down in Portland.
It was 107 degrees.
I glanced around for anyone with horns and a red cape.
My sister, Nina, and her husband, Laurent, picked us up and dropped me off at my car. My daughter came running up with my cats and we loaded up my car with my luggage and the cats and I went home, crawled into the house and staggered down the hall to my bed.
My father went to Nina's house.
And just think! This is only the beginning...
ReplyDeleteOMG - Uncle Mike is so much like my Dad I have tears in my eyes. He would poke me too if my attention wavered. I miss him but would rather have a stick in my eye than fly next to him for several hours!!!!!! GOD BLESS YOU!!!!!
ReplyDeleteYes, I love my dad, too. Nina has also flown in the seat next to Dad. When she got off the plane her eyes were glazed and her arm was bruised. But now that he is out here, maybe he won't feel the need to flit about the country on areoplanes. And we'll get to be with both Mom and Dad at Christmas. Best ever!
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