A morning without coffee is like sleep.
While I’m enjoying Californiaesque weather here in Dixie, in a month when it should be hotter than a snake’s butt in a wagon rut, Mama and 3B are up in Maine, hanging out with Grammy…that’s Mama’s mom. Due to a cataclysm throughout lower New England, it took Mama and 3B 12 hours to not even get to Grammy’s on Monday, rather than the five hours it was scheduled to take to actually get to Grammy’s.
Having had to traverse two terminals at LaGuardia with a toddler, stroller, car seat and attendant accessories for all of those, Mama arrived at the gate for her second flight to find no sign of the flight and people lined up 10 deep at the desk. Turns out her flight had been canceled due to heavy rain, hail, cats and dogs, and so forth. Because she didn’t really have a spare hand and was in the midst of a small breakdown, Mama called me for help in figuring out what was going on.
While both Mama and I were initially enraged at the airline–who could have headed that off by simply listing the canceled flights rather than removing all sign of them–the staff did everything they could to help Mama and then some.
They booked her onto another flight, which was subsequently canceled as well. As Mama checked on what her new options were, while throwing food and shiny things at 3B to keep him distracted, the woman at that gate answered the phone and told Mama, “My boss wants you to go back to your original gate and see her.”
Somehow, the boss had remembered Mama and 3B–who could forget them?–and put Mama on a flight ahead of about 40 other folks who were trying to reschedule.
While I can’t say that airlines, as companies, are treating people right, this did reaffirm my faith that people still treat people right.
And Mama’s troubles were all put in perspective by the man she met who was traveling with twin two-year-olds. They were all trying to get to Maine to see his wife, the mother of the twins, who’d come down with viral meningitis and who was in the hospital with a swollen brain and an unsure prognosis.
Mama and 3B did finally make it to, as 3B likes to call it, Grammy Ptammy’s on Tuesday, and their luggage was even waiting for them on Grammy’s porch. While they’ve been traveling and are now trying to catch up on sleep, I’ve been trying to catch up on laundry, vacuuming, and the Olympics.
I’ve also been trying to catch up on sleep, although that’s hard to do when Mama’s gone, since I have a hard time sleeping without her around. It has helped somewhat that, in one of my periodic bouts of masochism, I’m slowly decaffeinating myself. As someone who once had a six-cup-a-day habit, this is no mean feat. At times, I’ve felt like I’m swimming underwater, and I do cop to a few sodas and iced teas to get me through those times, but generally it’s going well.
I know, I know, why bother decaffing when we’re going to have to reverse engineer the crazy trip that Mama and 3B took in a week or we’re just going to have another baby or there’s going to be a fencing final match at 1 a.m.?
Because every time I do decaf myself, I sleep better and have more energy overall, that’s why.
But, the process does rob me of whatever shreds of an attention span I have left, so tomorrow, in no particular order, I’ll begin assembling a recap of my week in California, starting with the naked mime.