I’ve been looking forward for a long time to my trip to Utah for my sister’s wedding. Micah is home with the boys, so it was just me, a book of essays, and some crossword puzzles on the flight.
It seemed like a great idea right up until the day before the flight. And then I started wishing that Micah would be there, and feeling bad that I was leaving him with the boys when I had done very little to prepare for me to be gone. (I know Micah can cook as well as I can and always has a great time with the boys when I’m gone, but I think I wanted to make myself feel more needed than I actually am.)
Once I got on the plane I was pretty glad I was all alone. And it would have been awesome if there hadn’t been a stiff headwind that caused me to be late and miss my connection. I landed in San Francisco last night hoping to hop straight on a flight to Utah, but found instead that I’d already been rebooked for a flight that didn’t leave for 12 hours. I asked if they could put me up in a hotel room, but since it was the weather’s fault I missed my flight, I was out of luck. I slept at an empty gate instead for a few hours and then wandered the concourse before deciding it was probably a good idea to try to get on the earlier flight. Miracle of miracles, I was the last standby flier to get a seat on the earlier flight.
It was probably best that I was flying alone. I don’t think the boys would have enjoyed sleeping at gate, and I don’t think we would have loved having to shell out a bunch of money for a hotel room. But I sure did wish I’d had someone to talk to, or to back me up when I had no idea what I was doing at the customer service desk. I’m never one to make a fuss about things — I figure I can handle just about anything — but it’s sometimes a lot easier to be an adult when I have someone to be an adult for. Or with.