Setting off on our trip to France and England
On the plane about to land in Paris. The flight went well. Lizzy had some problems sleeping, even though she took a Benadryl. I took an Ambien and was out.
We left a little late, and had a fair amount of construction traffic. We were still OK on time, because I left an hour contingency, so I felt pretty good. We did a lap of the airport looking for economy parking. I pulled into the lot and saw that in Chicago, “economy” meant $17/day and pulled back out, calling Jon to ask him to search for other options. The address he sent me for the off-site lot was 15 minutes away through traffic. I considered it. It was $7 cheaper/day, which would make a big difference given we would be gone for 18 days, however, I also didn’t want to miss our flight.
We turned around and went back to economy. Better safe than sorry. The shuttle took us to the airport, where we got an airport tram.
Elizabeth looked out the window, “This is so cool.”
“Why”
“I haven’t been on a train ever that I remember.”
I smiled. Thankful.
We got off at the International Terminal, which we toured briefly before I checked a sign and realized our flight left from Terminal 3. Back to the Tram. I was really beating myself up now, first about the parking, and now this. What else would go wrong?
At the check-in desk we went to the automated kiosk, scanned our passport and entered our destination. “Try again” the machine said. This time we entered our flight number and birthday. Nothing. I am panicking. I’d paid my money, but hadn’t confirmed online. maybe we had no ticket. The machine prints a slip and send us to an agent. I hand her our passports. “How many bags are you checking today”
“Two” I say, and breathe a sigh of relief.
Bags checked, we head for security, which moved amazingly quickly. Once through we go to get food. Manchu Wok dinner in hand I say, “OK, let’s head for the gate.” It is 5:57. Boarding starts at 6. Elizabeth says “Can’t we sit and eat here.” I look at our food, and imagine trying to eat the chinese off of my lap at the likely crowded gate. “OK, we can sit here, but eat fast.” She finishes and I am almost done. She asks for an ice cream. It’s 6:15. OK, but you will have to eat it at the gate. We walk to the gate. There is no line. The agent says, “Pairs?”
I reply “Yes.”
“Hurry up, she says “This is an international flight. We don’t mess around. We were about to pull your bags.” I hear her on the phone, “The Mosses are here.”
Embarrassed, I make a comment about skipping the ice cream next time by way of excuse, and head to our seats.
Eight hours later, the plane lands. Elizabeth gives me a high-five, “Mom, we’re in France.” The smile on her face is priceless.
Next post: Our Visita
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