"Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. Lately, it hasn't been for happy occasions. I've been on more planes and in more rental cars than I care to count.
Yes, I'm being selfish. Go ahead. Label me. "She's an only child. She's used to getting her way." I'll laugh at that one all the way to the bank. Then I'll take my quarter and throw it at you.
My January escape is Phoenix. I didn't go. The Belle was ill and I wanted to be here. My next escape is Florida in March. I went, knowing Hangdog was facing surgery. I went knowing the husband was on the opposite coast. Then, I learned the brothers were coming in to support their father. I had two days in glorious sunshine before I cut my trip short due to his death.
The airlines must love me. I've paid to change flights and rearrange plans. Somehow, in the midst of these plans, I've missed my vacations.
When the Belle died, the husband and I schlepped Hangdog to Mississippi for the funeral. You cannot consider yourself a veteran traveler until you've arranged for wheelchairs and taken someone with a pacemaker through security. Twice we propped him at the gate and ran -- RAN! -- for a Bloody Mary.
This trip was just the two of us. No security snafus. No need to stop in the men's room nineteen times. However, we did deal with plane changes, missed connections, luggage due at another time, changing rental cars in a different city, tracking down luggage at 5:30 AM and more.
Hangdog took every offered item (useful or not) that he might be entitled to have. I have a sh** load of stuff in my basement to prove it.
Selfish Sheri wants a vacation.
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