My stomach had pretty bad butterflies all week last week. It was hard to tell what, exactly, was going to happen on Saturday. I had officially designated my mom as the "adult" who would pick Scooter up on the 21st, but that was met with some resistance. It was touch and go for a few days, there. The other thing to be nervous about was flying. I normally love flying. I have no fears about boarding a long metal tube and being hurtled 500 miles per hour through the sky several miles above the earth. I kind of like it, other than the people I generally have to sit by. The thing I was nervous about was the timing of everything. I was supposed to leave Portland at 6:30am, arrive in Denver at 10am, leave Denver at 10:40am, and get into Omaha at 1pm. From there, Scooter and I were booked on a flight leaving at 3pm to Las Vegas (arriving at 4:20pm), then taking off at 7:40pm and arriving in Portland again at 10pm.
Right off the bat, things went wrong. I was safely on my flight at 6:15, and we were preparing for take off, when the pilot announced that we may or may not need a new plane. One of his instruments was broken...I called Ben. At that point, the customer service people, the flight attendants, and the pilot all assured me that I'd still make it to Denver by 10 or 10:20 - plenty of time to make my 10:40 flight. By 7:15, we were boarding another plane. We took off right around 8am. Oh, man...The flight attendant made an announcement that we *should* still make several connections, but if the Omaha people miss their 10:40 flight, there's no problem. There's another flight leaving Denver that'll get us into Omaha by 8pm. I started crying. By 8pm, there are no flights leaving Omaha to go back to Portland. If I remember correctly, the last one is at 6:45pm.
The fight attendant came by to get people's connection information so the pilot could check on gates for us. I told him my story: I'm flying to Omaha to pick up my daughter after a lengthy custody battle. She and I are scheduled for a 3pm return flight from Omaha. If I miss the connection now in Denver, I don't make it to Omaha in time for us to fly back. PLUS, my 7 year old is stranded at the airport... Please. Is there any way to hold that flight in Denver? His reply? "Ma'am. Nobody on this aircraft has the authority to hold flights on the ground." I said ok. DARN IT!!!
An hour or so later, the pilot made an announcement with gate locations. We were flying into C49 (far north end of the terminal). The Omaha flight is at C31 (far south end of the terminal). We landed at 10:42. I waited like a nice girl in row 11 (exit row!!) for the first 60 people to de-plane. The man sitting in the aisle was nice enough to let me out first. I RAN all the way to C31. I got my phone out and turned it on as I was running. Ben called about 1/2 way to my gate. I told him I was running, and I'd have to call him back. I got to the end of the terminal, where there are a bunch of gates all clustered around the end. A ground crew guy called out, "Going to Omaha?" I said YES!!! I handed him my ticket, and thanked him profusely. As I was going down the jetway, I called Ben to see if he'd call Mom to tell her I made it. I made it! I started crying again.
As I made my way down the airplane to find the very last seat on the flight, I noticed that there was nobody standing in the aisle, adjusting overhead bin luggage. There was nobody shifting around their seat, to arrange their under the seat storage. Everyone already had their seat belts on. They were all looking at me. I took my seat (a middle, of course), and a flight attendant handed me a bunch of tissues. I said thanks, and we were on our way...
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