It’s not quite a Filipino-American version of Macaulay Caulkin’s
Home Alone but I’m embarrassed nevertheless.
Alex,
Bryson, Scarlet, and I were heading to JFK to LAX the Friday before Memorial
Day. At LAX we would stay overnight at Uncle Rob’s and then Scarlet, Bryson,
and I would head with Lolo, Lola, and Rob to Kauai while Alex would go to
Taquitz for a long weekend rock climbing with his buddy Tom. After the 3-day weekend Alex would then head back to NYC
for work (but kids free!) and after a week in Kauai I would fly back to NYC. I
even thought through the logistics of that LAX-JFK flight and decided that it
would be best to have my mom joined me since flying solo with two kiddos was
probably not a good idea.
I made lists, spent my usual three hours packing and
preparing, and was proud when I was able to whittle our family down to two
backpacks, one roller board, and two strollers. And mind you, the roller board
was 90% full with Bryson’s red sleeping tent. The rest was jam packed with
Bryson and Scarlet’s clothes. And a few socks for me – which right, I am
planning on wearing the same outfit (which I wore on the plane) every day for
the ten days we are gone.
I was even proud that we had reserved a car service to
arrive at our house two and a half hours before our flight.
We had planned thoroughly, executed perfectly, and
everything was going to go as planned.
Ah, famous last words...
2 hours 30 minutes before our JFK-LAX flight - the car
service is supposed to be at our house and we are still doing last minute
packing and haven't yet made the last minute potties
2 hours 15 minutes before flight - car hasn't arrived yet,
which is good since we are just getting downstairs to the curb
2 hours before flight - car hasn't arrived yet; we are now
worried. The driver keeps saying that he "is close and will be getting
there soon. There is traffic!"
1 hour 50 minutes before flight - car finally arrives and
we are driving off. Google maps says the drive will take 1 hour 5 min. It will
be very close.
Except the traffic is worse than Google thinks. And to
make things worse, the driver is driving like he's on a Sunday drive through
the park. He keeps letting people pass us, slowing down and stopping at yellow
lights, and picking the slowest lines to queue up in. And he knows that we are
late for our flight! After letting yet another person in front of us, Alex
finally bites at him, "Listen, I need you to drive aggressively. You were
thirty minutes late and we are going to miss our flight." The driver then
starts driving on the side of the freeway (we even get blocked by trucks trying
to stop us) and starts taking side streets to avoid the monstrous
traffic.
1 hour before flight - But it's a little too late and it
is still not looking good. We have another 30 minutes to go according to Google
maps.
45 minutes before flight - In trying to take a shortcut,
the driver makes a mistake and we lose yet another 5 minutes when he had to
turn around
40 minutes before flight - The driver had a smart idea to
pay now so we don't have to spend time doing this when we arrive at the
airport.
35 minutes before flight - We realize that Alex has not
checked in. AND he has a bag to check too. I am not able to check him in
online, "See agent," the AA website tells me. Alex groans, "We
are not going to make it. But maybe we can get you on the flight?" I am on
a separate ticket with the kids since I have a separate itinerary. I groan,
"We'll see..."
33 minutes before flight - We finally arrive at the
airport. We immediately execute the plan we discussed in the car. Alex grabs
his heavy backpack and even heavier rock climbing roller board and storms off
to check in. I then struggle with a roller board, two backpacks, a huge grocery
bag, two strollers, and two kids to follow him.
I cajole Bryson to help push his stroller and we head to a
console to try to get boarding passes. I struggle to type in Scarlet's birthday
until the man behinds me clarifies that I need to type in four not two digits
for the year.
Finally boarding passes in hand, we head out to look for
Alex. I am jamming, feeling fast with luggage in tow, making a quick call
midstride to Alex to clarify where he is, and making good time. We might make
this flight after all!
Except Bryson, who is pushing his stroller behind me
trying to keep up, pipes up, "I miss Scarlie!"
To which I pause in my Wonder Woman moment and realize,
"Sh!!t where is Scarlet??!! Oh my God I left her!!"
I go from Wonder Woman to Sh!!t Mom and decide to plunge
even further down the sh!!ter, thrusting all bags with my four year old and
fleeing off as I toss over my shoulder, "Watch the bags! Got to go!"
(I blame all my ridiculous decisions on being severely sleep deprived by the
way.)
I make a mad dash and try to find where the heck I left
her. And that no one has stolen her.
Ah, relief. There she is! I left her at the console. And
the nice man behind me was watching her to make sure she was ok. He was
relieved to see me, "Ah, I was wondering when you would realize you left
something behind."
I grab her stroller and call over my shoulder,
"Thanks!"
The next minutes are even more a whirlwind.
20 minutes before flight - I find Alex checking his bag,
"Try to make your flight!" Bryson, Scarlet, and I rush off to go
through security. I tell the security guard, "We are in a rush!" She
then proceeds to tell me to wait and lets ten airline personnel in front of me,
Ugh. I rush through and try to handle my roller board, two backpacks, one big
grocery bag, two strollers, and two kids. The stroller is having trouble
clearing security, the milk needs to be checked. Ugh.
Somehow Alex catches up to us and is helping us get
through.
15 minutes before flight - Rushing to the gate. Alex and
Bryson storm ahead to try to get to the gate while I stagger after to take the
elevators with the stroller. This has to be the furthest gate, needing to go
down under the runway and then up again and then our gate is the very furthest
away. Ugh.
Alex frantically calls my name, "Hurry! Hurry!"
He holds the gate door open and I give the agent my ticket, and the door closes
as soon as we are through.
Whew!
I hold my head down in my walk of shame as I hear over the
plane's loud speaker, "Ladies and Gentlemen, apologies for our delay. We
had a few late arrivals."
We make it to our seats, our baggage is split in different
overhead bins, and of course we don't have the most essential bag with
Scarlet's diapers and Bryson's milk and food and games. I relent and decide to
spend five bucks so the Bear can watch some Disney movies.
How to last for an almost six hour flight on a solo trip
with two kids? Lots of snacks, movies, diaper changes in your seat, potty trips
to make sure your four year old doesn't have an accident. But the biggest help?
Angels who help.
For example, the sixteen year old Tess next to us who
asked if she could help when I took the Bear to his first of four potty trips,
"I can hold her if you want." And without hesitation, I shove my
three month old into her hands. Forget her hands being washed. Forget that she
doesn't have any experience with babies. I can bring Bryson to the potty. And I
can go myself too! Party time!
So that's how we survived. I was even able to eat some
food.
And how did I manage all those bags? Tess' entire family
(dad and older sister) hauled all my stuff all the way to the curb. And even
waited until Uncle Rob picked us up.
Ah, thank goodness for Angels. Here are some quick photos
of Tess’ dad and us.
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