After our very busy day, we hit the sack, with many items checked off our to-do lists, but a few remained for the morning. I stayed up late washing dishes, throwing more items into the suitcases, making sandwiches and filling water bottles for our long day of travel. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 8:45, which meant we'd need to leave for the airport at 6 am. I set an alarm for 5, but couldn't sleep past 4, which is typical for me before a trip. Good, I thought, being exhausted might help me sleep on the trans-Atlantic flight.
As planned, we let the kids sleep, and carried them from the warm bed to the warmed-up car at 6. I was pleased with myself for thinking of putting them to bed in their comfortable travel clothes instead of pajamas, so there was no need to expose their bare skin to the cold morning temperature of our house. Zephyr awakened when Jon picked him up, and, with an instant grin, said, "This is exciting!" Once settled in to the car, he proclaimed, "We're going to Europe, where we'll eat the best pastries in the world!"
The drive to the airport went very smoothly. There's not much traffic at 6 am on December 24th. We parked, took the long-term shuttle, and walked up to the Delta counter. "Going to Phoenix?" the attendant asked. "No, Barcelona, ultimately," I answered. "Barcelona?!?!? You're way too late," she scolded. I looked at the clock for confirmation, it read 7:15. "But the flight is at 8:45," I protested. "It's at 7:45," she sharply replied. "They changed it two months ago. That's why you need to call and confirm," she continued. She pushed some buttons on the computer. "The soonest I can get you there is tomorrow." I took a deep breath, and looked at Jon. "We're going to make it," he quietly reassured me.
I noticed a sign that indicated that passengers must check their bags 30 minutes before departure. I pointed out to her that we were within that time frame. "You need to be at the gate 30 minutes before," she sneered. "You're way too late. That's why you need to call and confirm flights," she repeated, but not for the last time. I had just looked up our flight info the week before, so although I felt she was being harsh, I decided not to point that out. Besides, it seemed like she was checking our bags, despite her apparent hostility. We showed her our passports. "Gate b2, and you better run," she said. "You're never going to make it."
The next period of time was a blur- running with children and carry-ons, shoes off, coats off, baggie of liquids separated, backpack searched ("Are all these juice boxes for your kids?" we were questioned. No, I'm hoping to sell them on the black market, I wanted to reply) then another sprint to the gate. "We're so glad you made it," the attendant at the gate smiled at us. I burst into tears as we walked to our seats. What a rush, what a relief. And why was that first attendant so mean to us, anyway?
We had an uneventful flight to Atlanta, where we had a four hour layover. We found unpopulated gates where we spread out and let the kids run races. We ate veggie burgers and fries at Chili's, and made last minute phone-calls and texts. As we were waiting to board, I looked up and noticed we were waiting in the area designated for first-class passengers. I didn't feel like moving the family over to the area for "our own kind," and there was plenty of space where we were, so I was hoping we could just stay off everyone's radar and slide through. I looked up from my phone to see a couple of people laughing at something Zephyr said. "He just told us wine tastes better than beer," they explained. "He must have seen that on TV," Jon fibbed.
We boarded the plane. It was time for the big test- 11 hours with no exit in sight.
Jubi fell asleep before the plane even took off. "Don't they know the clock is ticking?!?!?" Jon queried.
All in all, Jubi slept the first few hours, Zephyr slept the last few, I dozed here and there, and Jon slept not a wink. Zephyr watched some of the first movie, which was Harry Potter. I was pleasantly surprised that the second movie, 500 Days of Summer, was palatable, and Jon and the kids watched, but didn't listen to, most of the third movie, whose name escapes me.
We arrived in Barcelona at 8:45 am, December 25th, after 18+ hours of travel.
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