My friend, Rob, took me to the airport today. He's shuttled me from and to the airport at least 5 times, now, saving me about $150 in cab fare. That boy rocks. It might be the one thing I miss when all of this is over. I certainly won't miss seeing my daughter in bits and spurts, and I especially won't miss dropping her back off at her dad's. But I will miss the short trips with Rob. When I saw him today, I had been crying. It's hard to hug Scooter goodbye and hustle to the airport. I'm not sure if he noticed, and frankly, I don't care. It's such a relief and treasured time (for me) to have him take me to the airport. We laugh about completely random things the whole way to the airport, and he expertly takes my mind off the misery and heartbreak I feel. For 20 minutes, I feel normal and happy and sarcastic. And I can't thank him enough for those little respites from the reality of leaving my baby behind. Again.
But that's not what this post is about. This one's about the crazy number of people I've witnessed making out on this trip. I was late for Rob to take me to the airport. I think I do this every time. I agree to a time for Rob to pick me up, and then I show up 20 minutes later and make him get out of the driveway so I can park the car. Same story today. I was late. Rob's a saint. We got to the airport at about 5:11, and pull up to a couple full on making out in front of the unloading/loading zone. We're talking tongue, arms akimbo, heads mashing disgusting. And these weren't kids. He was bald; she was driving a mini van.
I gave Rob a quick hug (even those of us with personal space issues hug at airports),and I ran in to print my own boarding passes. I was done and through security in 11 minutes. I spoke to Ben very briefly and then settled in to hop on the internet. We were supposed to have started boarding in 3 minutes, but the plane had not arrived, yet. I looked up from my laptop during the 30 second obligatory advertisement for free wifi access and saw another couple (this one much younger, and one a soldier) making out directly in front of me. Where did they come from?! They were not there when I sat down! Is this God's way of punishing me for staying in Omaha on my anniversary instead of being home with my husband? Because technically, it's not my anniversary. It only happens once every 4 years, and we're not quite there, yet. For all I know, tomorrow's the big day.
Either way, I'm stuck either missing my husband or missing my daughter for a while longer, yet. I can't wait until spring break. 18 more days.
Akimbo. Awesome.
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