I have been traveling in the ‘friendly’ skies for years.  I think my first commercial flights began when I was REALLY little, since I don’t remember them and by the time I remember flying as a child, I was an old hat and flying alone to visit my grandparents.  In all those years, I’ve not seen my flight details changed until this past year.  In the past year the airlines have taken to this idea that it is totally ok to change all sorts of flights (and often).  When I booked this most recent trip, I made sure that I had at least an hour layover in Houston in BOTH directions.  However, the airline decided to move the last flight UP and decrease my layover from an hour to a mere 35 minutes.  Have you seen the Houston airport?  It is large and confusing and REALLY big.

So, we planned.  We prepped Duke that one of us would carry his backpack and the other would carry him. (He was not pleased with this plan.) We planned our food by packing leftovers from our early Thanksgiving meal.  We were as ready as we could be.  And yet we worried.

Then we boarded flight one.  It literally pushed back from the gate 10 minutes early.  Ten full minutes early the doors were closed.  Now, I read the fine print, most airlines close boarding 10 minutes before the plane departs, which means that this plane was not letting on new passengers 20 minutes before the posted departure time.  Um…WHAT?

Next our pilot refused to obey any of the speed limits up in the skies.  We touched down in Houston nearly 30 minutes before we were scheduled to.  Prince and I take a deep breath, but then we worried that the next flight would be on this odd leave 10 minutes early plan.

So, we rushed across the entire length of Texas (or just the airport, who could tell the difference).  We got to the gate a full hour before the next plane was to leave.  URGH.

But we are home now, so I can begin to plan my Thanksgiving meal plus the meals of December.

The sole reason for doing this of course would be so that I might return from the OTHER.SIDE.OF.THE.EARTH. without spending 4+ days waking up in the middle of night and drooling from lack of decent sleep.  Oh yes, it is all about me, why do you even ask at this point?

Back to reality and less about my sleepless dream world.  I have returned from the amazing trip.  There are few times I can say that this was a trip of a lifetime, but this in fact was.  In case you are not in the know, we were on the QE2 for her LAST trip around the British Isles.  We went to Ireland, England, Northern Ireland, and Scotland in that order.  At every port call there were thousands of people meeting the ship and even more to see her leave.  (There were about 60,000 in Greenock, the port town for Glasgow, alone.  Greenock is on the River Clyde where she was built and the QE2 was the LAST Scottish built ship.)  I quickly began to believe that the crowds were there to see me (I am the Queen of Snarkville afterall) and thus this trip has ruined me for all travels unless there will be grand welcomes, photographers, interviews, and well, fireworks.  I’m nothing if not realistic.

I have so much to share about the trip.  So many things about how I was the picture of poise and grace (hold on, I’m choking on something). So many photos that we took.  So many experiences that blow me away and the tears I cried as we departed.  We will get there, but lest this post take years to read, I’m forced to break it up a wee bit.

What I will tell you is that the QE2 is old, in ship years.  She was built at a time of multi-class travel.  There are stairs and lifts that don’t seem to go to the same places and she isn’t easy to get around.  She is, thankfully, smaller than the newer ships, so her odd stairs were easier to learn over time.  I want to say she has smaller cabins, but our cabin was rather large, though oddly laid out.  She did offer the last true single cabins on the seas — and those were, um….TINY.  She was unique in so many ways and they will never build a ship like her again (thankfully in some ways and sadly in others).  But I was there.  She has two more cruises left — one from NYC to Southampton and then from Southampton to Dubai where she will become a 5 star hotel.

Many onbaord spoke of visiting her again in Dubai, which is a lovely thought — I think.  But of all the places in the world I have on my list to go, Dubai isn’t all that high, so I’m glad I saw and sailed her in her natural habiat.

But today, I’m back to real life.  Real life that includes laundry and dishes and dinner and such.  Yet, I’ve begun to think about it.  My daily life isn’t so different than my life on a cruise ship.

Every night on board the ship, the cabin steward leaves a chocolate on my pillow.  Every night at home, a cat leaves a hair ball on the floor by my bed.

Oh sure, I have the super duper cool, tree room tent, with a screened gazebo.  I have chairs, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.  I also seem to be completely amusing my husband with my dislike of dirt.

In my defense, I wasn’t ready for the fact that since I live in the world of no rain that the camp ground would be so dusty — I mean clouds of dust springing up when you walk.  That dust that sucks the little moisture out of your skin and makes you want to constantly wash your hands.  Yes, that level of dust.

But back to my story.  Apparently when faced with a single night of camping (read: hardest work on the planet), I turn into a raving lunatic.  Seriously, worse than normal.  Here’s proof:

1. I packed the car all by myself.  It was a masterful puzzle of pieces that got everything in the car, tight and perfect.  I did this while the boys were at class.
2. I was annoyed that Prince complimented my car packing skills.  You see he’s always the one who packs the car.  I decided I could do it and I did it and frankly I was good at it.  I have no idea why his compliment annoyed me — though I suspect it was a deep fear that I’d have to keep loading the car.
3. Driving to the campground, we drove by some beautiful valleys (think twisty roads, sharp drop offs, intense road grades, and rock faces really close to the road.  To add fun, this already narrow two lane road would occasionally NARROW more.)  I added to the fun by alternatively sucking in air and oohing over the glorious beauty and declaring that Prince isn’t allowed to look — sorry no, you must focus on not hitting that rock that I’m sure you will hit — WILL.YOU.PLEASE.SLOW.DOWN.  (Also, he got the thrill of worrying about us getting car sick — all of us, Duke, Me and the Dog.)
4. We get to the campsite.  We set-up camp.  I’m all helpful by putting up the tent.  Prince unpacks my perfectly packed car.
5. Prince leads the charge to find firewood.  I sweat and complain about dirt.  Prince is amused and also a wee bit scared.
6. Duke is having a blast making dust clouds and chasing the dog.
7. We get back to camp and I begin to make dinner, discovering in the process that though I packed dog food — it never made it into the tote of food.  (Also, realizing that we didn’t leave more food down for the cats –all animals are fine, the cats were a wee bit more anger that we left them though.)
8. Duke declares he doesn’t like what I made.  No worries, since I completely overpacked food, we made THREE total meals for dinner — think of it like a sampler platter.
9. We roast marshmallows.   I make exactly ONE s’more.  I eat it.  I offered it to Duke who declared he didn’t want a graham cracker — but he’d accept the s’more if I’d make it without the graham cracker (um, dude, I’m not giving you marshmallows and chocolate and sending you to bed — how insane do you think I am.  Also, stop getting dirty.)
10. Duke went to bed.
11. I have no idea what happened to Duke between going to bed and sleeping — but when we checked on him about 10pm, he was sound asleep, not in his sleeping bag, and though he only had a sleeping bag, air mattress, and his clothes in his tent — his tent was a MESS.
12. Prince and I read for a bit by lantern light.
13. I listened to my iPod and went to sleep.  Prince complained about our talkative neighbors.  I couldn’t get comfortable — a feeling that was echo’d by the dog who couldn’t decide where/with whom/if he was going to sleep.
14. Dawn thought about cracking and Duke awoke.
15. Duke and I snuggled for a bit in the cool morning and then we got up to make breakfast.
16. I made the single best pot of coffee ever — on my campstove.
17. We broke camp.
18. Tired and cranky, I’m sure I was a delight as I pulled down the tent, packed it away, and such.
19. Prince tried to recreate the perfection of my packing.  Somehow it not only wasn’t happening, even though we threw out a trash bag of stuff while there, we had somehow expanded enough to be a tighter fit.  I even had trouble packing it up and thus it became a group effort.
20. We got on the road, chose a different WAY twisty/dangerous route home.  Duke slept.
21. I declared that if we were going to do this again, we had to do it better next time.

Then I stopped.  Then I retold the story of the trip again and remembered the single best thing.  On Sunday Morning I woke up and asked Duke, “So, what’s the best thing about being five thus far?”  “Roasting Mashmallows, that’s my favorite.”  He’s also been asking to go camping again since arriving home yesterday.  Maybe he didn’t notice that I wasn’t much fun.

Home again, bathed and tired.  I feel better.  I have declared that I will not do this one night camping trip again.  That’s too much work not to get at least two days out of it.  And I think two days might be my limit for dirt.  I fear my idea of roughing it is more like a 3 star hotel, than a tent in the woods.

Let’s review, in the past month, I’ve flown something close to 10,000 miles, spent less than 96 total hours in my home (and as a result in my very own bed), had exactly 4 home cooked meals TOTAL, worn the same clothes that I packed for a one week cruise to Alaska for three straight weeks — yes, I did a little laundry along the way, and finally, I stayed in 5 hotel rooms, one cruise ship cabin, and flew on 10 different airplanes.

Yes, I’m still tired — but I’m unpacked.  I’m two loads of laundry away from that being done and yet I still need to put a few odds and ends away — like yarn.

But the big news is that summer vacation can FINALLY begin.  The problem is that even though the vacation can begin, I’m too tired to care.  I have two weeks before summer camp begins and I had grand plans of fun outings, cooking, playing, and such in those weeks.  As of this moment, I’m hoping we get dressed most days and maybe make it out to a park once or twice.  That’s me — over promise and under deliver!

I have so much to tell you, like why I stayed in so many hotel rooms or the time I feel down in a yarn shop that everything was 50% off and they weren’t going out of business. I also want to tell you that I did lots of knitting, but sadly I didn’t — it was like my knitting mojo was on break.  I’m finally ready to get back into the groove, but the need to vacuum is calling my name first.

So — what’s been happening with you?

However, this is not a simple story of me going from having a seat on one flight to sitting on the next flight.  No, because this is me, it comes with a story.  Does anyone remember the “Perfect Storm”  where the forces of nature unite together and create a horrible storm and people die?  Well, no one dies in my story, but it about as many things that can go wrong as humanly possible.

Thing 1:  I walk over to my gate just as the boarding begins.  I hear they are looking for volunteers and I run up (sorry, little old lady in a walker that I might have knocked over — kidding, she was a spry 75) and ask, “So what you goin’ give me?” “Oh, we are offering $400 voucher AND lunch AND dinner.”  “Sold.  Here’s my card, where’s my money.”  “Ok, you wait.”

Thing 2: Lady with seeing-eye dog boards.  The guy sitting next to her does not want to sit with a dog (go figure).  We wait as they try to get her re-seated with the dog.  It was lovely.

Thing 3: Boarding continues, they ask for more and more people.  One other guy steps up.  We get to chatting.  We watch the whole plane board.  We watch nearly 300 people file into the plane.  They give our seats away, we think we are home free.  Then we hear (and I need to explain, I’m not being funny here, this is the exact converstion):

Gate Agent: Gordon, here

(on phone — I have no idea what the other half said.)

GA: What do you mean the plane is broke?

GA: The P.L.A.N.E. is BROKE??

GA: Ok, we’ll get them all off and start over.

To us waiting: You may be in luck if they get a bigger plane — if they do, I’ll upgrade you.

Thing 4: There is a VIP onboard.  This VIP would be President Jimmy Carter.  He and his Secret Service get off the plane and they usher him to an undisclosed location.

Thing 5: Gate is changed for the new (hopefully, working) plane.

Thing 6: We lose the guy who had our boarding cards.  We walk, chat and bond a little.

Thing 7: We wait, we wait, we wait.  They have a new plane.  They clean the plane.  They load Mr. President onboard.  I would have totally gotten a photo, except for the very scary Secret Service woman looking at me.  He walked right past me — like I could have hugged him.  I didn’t.  See above the scary woman.  He was happy and um, SHORT.  Like shorter than me.  I’m serious — the man is SHORT.

Thing 8: My buddy was boarded — but screwed over.  He gave him his aisle seat and was given the middle seat and boarded — despite offering and waiting.  I felt sorry for him.

Thing 9: I got my voucher and then the surely guy who ended the transaction refused to honor our lunch and dinner vouchers — so I got a whole $7 for lunch — wow, I might go a little crazy with the eating.

Thing 10: I’m on stand-by for the next flight, but probably no hope of getting on that flight.  I’m confirmed on the last flight of the night.

Thing 11:  I am out of travel yarn.  Yup, I packed really light for this trip and I’ve gotten as far as I can in my pattern without the next color.  I’m totally considering ripping out and re-doing a part of this and being out of yarn seems like as good a reason as possible.

Grand review?  Is it worth my voucher to sit and work in the airport?  Oh yes.  I’m totally ok with it, as I can mostly do what I want from here as well as home.  The problems are other people waiting — I’ve had to ask one guy to STOP shaking the whole recharge station with his leg bounce and listened to a woman (old enough to be my mom) graphically describe the vaginal birth of her son and emergency hysterectomy. Hello — TMI, much?  It is not even 1pm yet — this could be interesting.