Leaving On a Jet Plane

For as long as Stan and I have been married (26 long...er...I mean wonderful...years), I have always taken him to the airport whenever he went on a business trip. There have been a few occasions when children or a commitment on my part has prevented that from happening. But for the most part I have taken him and picked him up. And those of you that know him well, knows that he travels alot. It doesn't matter the time he arrives or departs, or if it is snowing or raining, I'm there to greet him.

When the kids were young, of course they had to come with me. At one point, Melissa and Matt thought that Stan worked at the airport since we were always dropping him off and picking him up there.

Now, most of the time, Stan really couldn't pick the times he left or came home. He was at the mercy of the airlines. When he flew to Alaska, the only flight out was the red eye, that landed around 6:30 am. That meant that I got up at 4:30 to make the hour drive to Denver (earlier if it was snowing). Or sometimes it would be the meetings start or end time that dictated his flights. Whatever the reason, I was there.

This morning was no different. This morning he had booked himself a 6:00 am flight. That's right....6:00 AM!! And that meant leaving our house around 3:00 am, which meant getting up at 2:00 am, because he is REALLY slow in the morning and it takes him awhile to get moving. At 2:00 am, he moves even s...l...o...w...e...r.

As he was packing his suitcase last night, he made the most astute comment about how it wasn't the best move he ever made by booking such an early flight. You should be proud of me that not a "DUH" or a "No kidding" ever passed my lips. Seriously. I may have to buy me ice cream later to celebrate my restraint.

He may be thinking that he will never do that again. And he may mean it. Until he does it again.

Duh.