After our conversation friday afternoon, where the King was headed to Spain, we decided to all go. I felt so naughty pulling the kids out of school. The last time I did it to go home to Oz when Grand Master D was 6, it was such an issue that I’ve never done it again. Only traveling in the summer break which isn’t ideal for an Aussie break.But this time, after losing our winter break days due to ridiculous bureaucrats I was totally ready for a break. Fuck it, a trip to Spain is a totally better learning experience than sitting in any classroom.
We’re going for a week, Monday to Monday.
And as I write this from the plane already we’ve had incident. Feel free to roll your eyes because you totally know whats coming…..
I suffer from travel anxiety. To the point of feeling sick and not wanting to eat for the whole day of travel. I’m a basket case, yep it’s true. You can just imagine how this plays with the King… Mr. Empathy. He just laughs at me and can’t understand what the fuss is about, but then again he just barrels through life knocking everything out of his way.
Anyway, we managed to get through security unscathed and because I had the kids, I didn’t have to flash my bits to the purvies in the room upstairs via the X-ray. I got to go through the good old fashioned metal detector, panty liner and padded bra in tact.
Then it was time to eat but naturally the airport wants you to go through duty free and so we spent time looking and purchasing a gift for our hosts in Spain.
The kids were starving, as was I but we only had about 40 minutes to boarding. So of course we sat in a nice restaurant /bar and began to decide what we wanted.
Here’s where we have huge travel differences. The King likes to be the last and I mean the very last person on the plane, whereas I like to get on first, get seated without the pressure of all the people and settle in to go. That’s when my anxiety subsides. I can fly for hours and hours no trouble, it’s the getting to the plane causes the panic.
You have no idea how crazy I get when we travel together and he wants to wait… and I mean wait until even the late people are running for the gate. We’ve had huge fights over the years because it throws me into serious turmoil.
But it’s been a very long time since we’ve travelled together and he hasn’t travelled with the kids since we arrived in the US 7 years ago. He goes on his own, I go with the kids and a couple of times I’ve travelled on my own.
You get the picture, Ok, so back to the restaurant, the waiter seats us, gives us menus and leaves, vowing to come back in a couple of minutes…we waited and waited and waited. I said a couple of times I don’t think we have time for this but nothing happened. Knowing how long it takes for a burger to come and knowing we had less than an hour to boarding my anxiety took flight like a helium balloon on a summer’s day.
And then I said it, the moment it came out I knew… “I think this is a mistake”, was all I said, well that was it, he was up and out of his seat and blustering about not going through this and blah blah blah and out of the place he strode. We all followed like meek little lambs, because that’s just the easiest way.
Once outside I said, ‘I just think we wouldn’t have got served’, but I was speaking to the wind. With the two kids in tow, one almost fainting from heat and hunger (the airport was so hot!) we found food, ate it and got to the gate in time.
Lord Give Me strength.