This may not sound like a nice thing to say, but after you have traveled in airplanes accompanied by little kids, there is nothing more freeing than flying with no little kids! No toddlers touching every disgusting surface an airport offers, no convincing a small child the pressure in his ears will soon go away after take-off (what in the world is “take-off”, he will want to clarify), and no guilt over the justifiable amount of commotion a wiggly kid is capable of in such a confining space as an airplane.
I thought it was funnier than Marcus did when two boys about the same age as our boys sat behind us with their dad on one of the flights. (I learned later the one behind Marcus spent much of the flight kicking the back of his seat. Yes, not so funny.) But I thought it was HILARIOUS when, shortly before we landed, one of the busy boys demanded of his brother, “Henry, scratch my back.” His request was met with a quick and firm: “No.” Then, “Dad, scratch my back.” This was met with dead silence because the dad’s earbuds had been providing adequate protection from the busy brothers for perhaps the entire flight.
Marcus and I landed in San Francisco on a sunny Sunday afternoon and asked Uber for a ride. (If this is an unfamiliar term, Uber is an app that connects you with a local driver who works for Uber. It is less costly than a cab or shuttle.)
It actually took us two Uber attempts, which would have been uber annoying, but we were too happy to be on vacation to care. As newbies to the San Francisco airport, we were at the wrong place when the driver arrived to pick us up. Five dollars later, a second driver came and we were obediently waiting at the right place.
I was most fortunate to have taken a motion-sickness pill a few hours prior for the flight. The Uber ride was perhaps the scariest ride…of…my…life. I did indeed worry that this would be the first day of vacation and the last day of my life.
I have been on freakishly fast and furious cab rides before, but not over the hills of San Francisco! Truthfully, I suspect that the beautiful woman carpooling with us had caught the eye of the Uber driver and he was pulling out all his Jimmy Johnson antics. Needless to say, we arrived at our hotel quickly and very relieved.
My first mission was to begin a daily ritual of mailing a postcard to each of our kiddos. This turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip for me. It was great fun to tell each of them something different about our day, and to know they would have fun getting something in the mail. (Thanks, Janice Kelling, for this idea!)
More tomorrow about San Francisco and the chocolate lava cake that will leave you in great conflict with the First Commandment.