The travel day was like most – up early propelled by twin threads of anxiety (missing the flight) and excitement (adrenalin surge of anticipation). I hope I packed wisely, if not, my son’s closet looks like the Patagonia catalogue and something will wrap around me. Wakeup call at 5 am, left the house at 6:15. Our house/dog/garden sitter is driving us, and picking up daughter Robin en route.
My frequent flying daughter wrangled us through the obstacle agility course of Hartsfield. New to us: the lower level check-in where we are identified by face scans. The automated carry-on baggage check procedures. Familiar, the people with backpacks the size and weight of boulders, stolidly unaware of the hazards they present. We nimbly duck and weave our way to the Delta Skylounge and are gazing out at Delta airplanes gliding along on the runway.
It took 45 minutes from our daughter’s front door to the Skylounge, thanks to TSA precheck and her expertise. I had a small rolling bag with a change of clothes, knitting, my computer, and a cornucopia of support electronics; Bose headset, iPods x 2, iPad, iPhone and all their chargers. These give me a shot at quiet, music, audiobooks, books to read, and communication once we land. Also snacks. Nothing healthy. It was an unremarkable four-and-a-half-hour flight. The highlight was the overhead view of Mount Ranier.
I acknowleged I was in the Kingdom of Starbucks with a chai latte, followed by the usual rental car rigamarole and then a two hours drive to Bellingham from Seattle. Robin drove and navigated the AirB&B check-in procedure. Easy peasy. I still felt like a handful of chicken wire smushed into a ball.
There was a joyous reunion with my son and we hit the classy grocery store for basic provisions. Dinner was pizzas with much talk and shared laughter, and I stumbled to bed at 9:30, Bellingham time.
Tomorrow, firestation #2
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