This past weekend the Awesome One and I packed up our little bag and flew to the homeland for a brief (very, very brief) visit. Only, when we got there the strangest thing happened.
It wasn't the homeland anymore. Weird.
Also weird? We spent a good half hour watching bags go by on the baggage claim, desperately hoping our big black rolly bag would be among them as it should, only to watch the carousel come to a desolated halt without ever producing our black rolly bag. As is customary whenever something goes wrong for us, I began to panic and outline exactly how this was about to ruin my life forever and ever and ever, and Mr. Awesome listened calmly and before taking my hand and leading me to the baggage-claim-office-place-with-the-people-who-do-the-stuff. We explained that our big black rolly bag had not come on the plane and we were therefore about to die and never be happy again, ever. So they helped us look over the unclaimed baggage and had us unzip one big black rolly bag (that I knew was not ours, btw) just to be sure. And I mean, come on people. I packed that bag and he lugged it several blocks to the metro, through several airports, and all around Scotland previously. We know what our bag looks like, mmmmkay? Eventually one of the people-who-does-the-stuff took our little baggage claim slip sticker, read it, got a very funny wrinkled-brow expression and said "It's right there. That big blue one." And it was. That big blue rolly bag that was not at all black was filled to the top with our clothes and goodies. Can you believe it, people?
The airline had died our bag blue!
The audacity. I'm telling you. Good thing I caught on to their little game or I might have been feeling reaaaaally stupid right about then.
And then we departed for what would become a three day festival of driving and eating with occasional stops for sleep. At one point, in the course of two hours, we ate four courses of Thai food followed by some random frozen custard, and then the biggest slice of homemade chocolate cake I have ever seen. I nearly died. It was awesome.
Eight nieces, two nephews, five hundred miles of driving and two suitcases full of my old textbooks later, we took our big I-swear-it-was-black, blue rolly bag back to the airport. And for the first time in my life, I was flying home and away from Utah at the same time. It was bliss.
Conversation in the car on the way through SLC:
Me - "So, Utah is kind of fun huh?"
Him - "Yeah, it is."
Me - "Yeah, so many good memories..."
Him - "mmmhmmm, yeah."
Me - "Let's never live here."
Him - "Deal."
PS. In the course of packing up and getting rid of my life-storage in my mother's basement, along with the two suitcases full of books (what? I gave up like four boxes of books here people! That was me exercising restraint!) I ended up taking home my prom dress. Why? Because it fits, obviously. Also Mr. Awesome suggested I wear it out dancing with him at least once. He'll get a tux and buy me a corsage and we'll go waltzing. Who says no to that?
It wasn't the homeland anymore. Weird.
Also weird? We spent a good half hour watching bags go by on the baggage claim, desperately hoping our big black rolly bag would be among them as it should, only to watch the carousel come to a desolated halt without ever producing our black rolly bag. As is customary whenever something goes wrong for us, I began to panic and outline exactly how this was about to ruin my life forever and ever and ever, and Mr. Awesome listened calmly and before taking my hand and leading me to the baggage-claim-office-place-with-the-people-who-do-the-stuff. We explained that our big black rolly bag had not come on the plane and we were therefore about to die and never be happy again, ever. So they helped us look over the unclaimed baggage and had us unzip one big black rolly bag (that I knew was not ours, btw) just to be sure. And I mean, come on people. I packed that bag and he lugged it several blocks to the metro, through several airports, and all around Scotland previously. We know what our bag looks like, mmmmkay? Eventually one of the people-who-does-the-stuff took our little baggage claim slip sticker, read it, got a very funny wrinkled-brow expression and said "It's right there. That big blue one." And it was. That big blue rolly bag that was not at all black was filled to the top with our clothes and goodies. Can you believe it, people?
The airline had died our bag blue!
The audacity. I'm telling you. Good thing I caught on to their little game or I might have been feeling reaaaaally stupid right about then.
And then we departed for what would become a three day festival of driving and eating with occasional stops for sleep. At one point, in the course of two hours, we ate four courses of Thai food followed by some random frozen custard, and then the biggest slice of homemade chocolate cake I have ever seen. I nearly died. It was awesome.
Eight nieces, two nephews, five hundred miles of driving and two suitcases full of my old textbooks later, we took our big I-swear-it-was-black, blue rolly bag back to the airport. And for the first time in my life, I was flying home and away from Utah at the same time. It was bliss.
Conversation in the car on the way through SLC:
Me - "So, Utah is kind of fun huh?"
Him - "Yeah, it is."
Me - "Yeah, so many good memories..."
Him - "mmmhmmm, yeah."
Me - "Let's never live here."
Him - "Deal."
PS. In the course of packing up and getting rid of my life-storage in my mother's basement, along with the two suitcases full of books (what? I gave up like four boxes of books here people! That was me exercising restraint!) I ended up taking home my prom dress. Why? Because it fits, obviously. Also Mr. Awesome suggested I wear it out dancing with him at least once. He'll get a tux and buy me a corsage and we'll go waltzing. Who says no to that?
1 comment:
now that sounds fun! I'm glad you have a pretty dress to go dancing--you should post pics!
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