And so is traveling.
So, if you put both of those together, you know it’s inevitable. Sooner or later, somebody’s gonna lose it.
I’m not sure why traveling turns my husband into such a madman on a mission. He’s never been one to kick back and enjoy the journey. His only goal is to reach his destination in the quickest and most efficient many possible.
For example, during long car trips, potty breaks are only allowed when the gas tank is empty and a pit-stop is unavoidable. Once we’re back on the road, the grumbling begins. “We passed that U-Haul twenty miles ago. Now look, they’re ahead of us!”
Traveling through airports isn’t much better. We had the pleasure of that experience over Christmas break. Curt took one step through the airport’s sliding doors and I could see it in his eyes. The Madman was back.
We jumped in line and the chaos began. Take off your shoes. Slip off your belt. You can’t take that water bottle. Check your pockets. Put your phone in the tray. Who packed that bottle of hairspray? Take the IPad out of the backpack ...
Finally, after we’d all been scanned, X-rayed and given the official thumbs up, Curt gathered us again for further instructions. “Okay, give me back your boarding passes. I’ll hang on to them until we get to the gate.” We did as we were told.
Well, everyone except Madison. A look of panic crossed her face as she dug through her coat pockets. Curt exhaled. “Where’s your boarding pass?”
“I don’t know.” She shoved both hands into the pockets of her sweatpants.
“Did you stick it in your backpack?” Curt asked.
“I don’t think …”
“Did you set it down when we went through security?”
“Maybe … “
Madison and I rushed back to security. We checked the conveyor belt. We looked through a stack of plastic trays. We asked an airport worker.
No luck. We sulked back to the rest of our family. Curt looked up from rummaging through Madison’s backpack and shook his head. “I can’t believe you lost it! It’s only been like FIVE MINUTES!”
Speaking of losing it, the ever-growing crease across Curt’s forehead served as our warning … the Madman was also about to lose it.
Nearby, a white-haired woman saw our predicament and leaned over toward me. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “My granddaughter lost her boarding pass and they just printed her a new one at the gate.”
I smiled and gave her a nod. But this lady didn’t know the half of it. We’d been through this many times with this kid. She'd lost homework. P.E. clothes. Lunch money. Ball gloves.
Once more, Curt flipped through the stack of boarding passes. “Like I said, I’ve got our four right here. I've got Emily’s … Taylor’s … Sheri’s … He paused for a moment. “Madison’s ...”
“What?” Madison’s eyes widened. “All this time, you’ve had my boarding pass?”
Curt stared blankly at the papers in his hand.
Madison tried not to smile. “Well I guess that leaves us with only one question. Where is your boarding pass, Dad?
The forehead crease softened. “That’s a good question.”
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