After what seemed like an interminable journey, the Little One and I are finally home from our vacation. Our return flight was, ummmm, interesting and fraught with far too much excitement, as our flight from Sarasota to Atlanta was delayed by three hours because apparently, the plane was hit by lightning before coming to Sarasota. Three hours was bad. Very bad. We would never have made our connection, and Sarasota being Sarasota, not only was that the last flight of the day to Atlanta, there were also no other flights to Atlanta on other airlines. There was, however, a flight from Tampa – an hour to the north – that would give us enough time to make our connection. Jumping back into the car, we raced up the highway to Tampa, cursing the lane cutters and the traffic (after all, if it had to happen, why not have it happen at rush hour…), with Dad pulling off some most excellent maneuvering across exit lanes when the Little One just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Nor could I, and as we crawled through the traffic, Little One kept saying, “Grampa, you have to stop. Mommy has pee pee.” Somehow, I made it to the airport, where we checked in after my mad dash to the loo.

The Little One was restless, and to our dismay, we discovered that the airport play area was gateside. Not wishing to drag out our last moments running around the terminal after a three-year old, we said our goodbyes, jumped on the train to the concourse and went through security, which is when we found out that the play area had been closed, leaving us with 45 minutes to kill. In a big, crowded airport. With a very active small child. I received looks that were a combination of amusement and pity as I chased him around the terminal, trying to get him to the gate when our flight was called, trying to get him to get up from the floor, trying to get him to stop running in circles. I received a look of disgust from our seatmate, as she spotted my son and spilled over into my seat. Fortunately, she was in the wrong seat, and we soon found ourselves sitting next to a funny young grandmother who had had a few drinks in the airport to calm her down and another one on the plane, and who made the trip that much easier to bear as she helped me to entertain my son (with much assistance from the in-flight satellite TV).

The scenes from Tampa were replayed in the airport in Atlanta as we got close to the gate, with me chasing, and the Little One alternately laughing and throwing tantrums, and almost escaping mid-wardrobe change. Finally making it onto the plane, and he fell asleep shortly after takeoff, but not before getting magic marker on me and on himself. My original plan had been to get him off to sleep and then catch up with the fabulous entertainment system, but it didn’t pan out, as the system had malfunctioned for half the passengers and the entire system had to be reset, a process which took several precious “me” hours. The Little One slept for about eight hours, partially on me and partially on the sweet Russian grandmother who sat beside us, allowing him to kick her and rest his feet on her all night long. More hijinks ensued once my devil child precious son woke up, and no one was happier than I when we finally made it off the plane.

Passport control was a breeze. Grabbing the suitcases was a bit trickier, as the carts were not made with children in mind, but fortunately we were assisted by those around us, and three of our suitcases came out rather quickly. It’s possible the fourth one did as well, but I was so out of it at this point, that I’d forgotten what the fourth suitcase looked like, and once the area was clear and I didn’t recognize any of the few lone suitcases, we made our way to the lost luggage counter, where a young woman led us back to the carousel and I felt terribly foolish for not having remembered which suitcase I had. Somehow, we made it to the arrivals hall without being stopped by Customs officials (I’m guessing the pity came into play again), and a joyful reunion with the Husband and Father was had by all.

This journey from hell reminded me of a movie I’ve always enjoyed, National Lampoon’s Vacation, starring Chevy Chase (and written by 80s powerhouse screenwriter John Hughes. The theme song was written and performed by Lindsey Buckingham (of Fleetwood Mac fame), and it’s today’s featured song for 80s Music Video Sunday.

Holiday Road
Lindsey Buckingham

I found out long ago, oooohhhh
It’s a long way down the Holiday Road, oooohhhh

Holiday Road
Holiday Road

Jack be nible, Jack be quick, oooohhhh
Take a ride on a West Coast kick, oooohhhh

Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road

I’ve come back long ago, oooohhhh
Long way down the Holiday Road

Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road
Holiday Road

Oooohhhh

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