Boarding call...

Okay, not quite yet, but I am at the airport. My parents are (hopefully) safe on their flight, and I'm sitting around waiting for mine, having secured a meager breakfast in turn for having a place to sit and blog.

I am tired of public places getting savvy though. 8 bucks to poach wireless? No fair!!

About an hour until... ulp... boarding...

I actually feel unimaginable relief, despite a sleepless night, because all the stressful pre-prep stuff is OVER.

Getting to and from the hotel room in Raleigh (which involved no messing up beds, washing or anything, so they personnel must think we were either nuts or setting up an impromptu but dummy meth lab) was a bit delayed due to the fact that yet AGAIN I confused en route to Greenville. 64 and 264 wind together and then branch off. When Slappy visited, after assuring her husband that as two females driving alone at night, we'd be *perfectly* safe, I got us about an hour's way lost in a nicely remote area. Gang graffiti, thankfully not included.

Having "learned" from that mistake, I set about doing EXACTLY the same thing last night getting my dad from Winston Salem to Greenville, realized my error, and had a deputy sheriff pull up as I sat in the parking lot of a building complex attempting to read a map that was ironically put out by Mapquest... this strikes me as contradictory since when Mapquest inevitably gives you bad directions on the computer, do you really want to rely on their print versions to save you? Anyway...

I'm not sure if said deputy saw the California plates, but set about setting us on the right path... overlooking my fatigue and my general blondeness. He got back on the road behind us, just in time to watch me miss the turn he'd told me to take.

He flashed his lights at us, and I was left with the very difficult decision of trying to ignore him in his attempts to be charitable or stop in the middle of the road and back up in front of him, a move that is so illegal it defies explanation.

I chose the latter, hoping that was the right answer, and as it turns out, it was. Said deputy sheriff even put on his lights so I could back up without being pasted by another late night loser.

As I squared the front of the vehicle with the correct exit, he pulled around next to me and said "follow me", and said it in a bright and friendly manner that, had I been in his position, I couldn't have mustered, NEEDING to say it darkly and following it with "ya idiot", but he's a better man than I, Gunga Din.

So I followed said sheriff as he drove at a very slow speed (no doubt to match what he thought of my general intellect), and put on his blinker way in advance so I would hopefully, not screw it up, and I didn't, and got back to Greenville via his shortcut to my longcut. Thank you exceedingly patient deputy sheriff. But at least he has a story about a blonde Californian so dumb she probably has to sit down to think and her apparently equally lacking daddy (sorry dad) who contributed half her doofus genes.

Anyway, after getting back to Greenville, we loaded up remaining luggage (having already secured a hotel in Raleigh and headed to the hotel, and didn't even get lost! Wahoo! By this point, we had about an hour before we wanted to be at the airport. Naturally, I was late, because I'm ALWAYS late, but we still made it in time for me to play a quick game of musical luggage as I discovered my dive bag was 53 pounds, a 3 pound difference that would have cost me 25 bucks. Fortunately, I was able to toss gear into a duffel bag and screech under with 49.

If I haven't mentioned it, my parents are flying Delta to Air Jamaica... they can have 2 bags up to 50 pounds each. I'm on American to American Eagle which means that due to the last leg, I only get 50 (or 70?) pounds TOTAL. Be advised. Also cheated the carry ons and "personal item", so I should be flying in style if any of my stuff actually makes it to the island.

Security was an absolute breeze, and since I'm on a one way ticket, it astounded me. I think it was because this was probably the first time I've been to an airport on time (for me), had my shoes off, laptop out, body free of jewelry, and was all around prepared, which means no fun for the security folks to make me do the unprepared chicken dance. D'oh!

To skip around, earlier in the day, as predicted, I boarded the critters in a kennel in Winston Salem and immediately began crying like a little girl. Fortunately, the people there were REALLY nice and said that sort of thing happened to lots of people. I'm not sure if they were lying, but it made me feel better. When I handed over Mishu's leash and Goth's cage over to the kennel attendant, that was just it. Fortunately my dad went with me, so I got to do the blubbery "I miss my critters!" thing. Sniff.

So now, I'm still scared, but as stated, a more muted inevitable kind of scared. I am concerned with whether the 'rents got on the plane, but I'm sure they're fine. They were there well in advance, but I was concerned with not having enough things I have no control over to worry at... such as worrying at ending a sentence like that in a preposition. Ahhhhh!!!

I'm off!!!!!