How do you get two sound adults, one gimpy adult, one wheelchair, two crutches, multiple carry-on bags, and a two-year-old through security at an airport? After security, how do you get them onto a plane? On the plane, how do you keep them from biting off each other's heads to get to the chewy center? These are only a few of the questions rattling aorund my brain as I try to comprehend that we are going to attempt this feat tomorrow.
I suddenly realized last night that we do not have a reservation for a handicapped room in Duluth. Yet, I cannot shower standing up. Hmmm, a quandry. So, it seemed like the logical thing to do to call the hotel and change that. However, our new employer made the reservations. So, I had no confirmation number, couldn't tell the lady what our rate was, how many nights we were staying or who the contact person was. After going in circles with her for about ten minutes, she asked to speak to my husband. this was either because the reservation was in his name or because she suspected that I am on drugs. Either is true. I suspect the latter.
She asked him all the same questions, which he was equally unable to answer (to my delight). But for some reason, she actually gave him the information and changed our reservation. Hence, my suspicion that the Vicodin was creating a barrier betwixt her and I.
I am seriously worried about this trip. If I make it through the part where I have to sit on an uncomfortable, tiny airplane seat with a broken pelvis for three hours, I'll let you know. Otherwise, farewell. I have enjoyed writing this blog.
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