TheBanyanTree: Day 1

[Monique Colver]

Prologue: Father-in-law, mother-in-law, and 12 year old brother-in-law are
taking charming husband and I on a fabulous family road trip, with stops in
San Francisco, Carmel, Holy Cross where my Mom is, and finally 4 days in
Disneyland. Then we speed back up here so in-laws can have two days at the
antique show in Portland before they fly back to Anchorage. They come to us
by way of Denver, where they visited sickly grandma for a few days. This
could make a good movie, but I'm not sure if it should be categorized as
comedy or horror. Time will tell.

Day 1 started with me overscheduling myself, as usual, and by midmorning I'd
already had a pile of laundry fall on my head. It wouldn't get any easier.

When picking up the 'rents and the boy child, I discover that the 'rents
previous testimony regarding baggage is wrong. But first: I show up at the
airport, and I look on the flight board for a flight arriving at 11:45 from
Denver.

There aren't any.

So I ask at the information desk. They ask if they're coming from Seattle.

I don't know. I don't know what airline, I know nothing. I figure it out.
They're coming from Denver by way of Seattle. I go back to the information
desk because it's now 12:00 and there's no one yet in the area where baggage
is collected.

They say the flight is due at 12:00.

So I hang out by the escalator where all incoming passengers must come, and
I wait. I watch a multitude of people pass by, and I begin to think they've
become lost between the plane and me. But then they come, 1, 2, 3, and they
all walk right past me, as if I don't exist. This feeds into my normally
paranoid psyche, but then I remember they've had a long day and apparently
they weren't expecting to see me. As if I wouldn't pick up anyone arriving
at an airport. I always do, and I don't just stop out front and wait for
them to emerge. I go in and hunt them down.

I grab them and they're happy to see me. I ask if they have baggage, because
they'd previously said they were coming with carry on's only, and mother had
already shipped a box of clothes to us so she wouldn't have to take them to
Denver first.

Father laughs and says, "Oh yes, we have baggage."

I knew it.

I direct them to carousel 2, and I tell them that when they've collected
their baggage to step outside, and I go to get the car from the parking
garage so they don't have to walk any farther.

When I pick them up at the curb I fear they've adopted several lost bags,
for surely that can't all be theirs, can it?

But it is.

I have only my little Ford Thunderbird, so we squish in what we can in the
trunk, and then we create a giant pile in the middle of the back seat, and
even then father must have a bag on his lap in the front seat.

Fortunately the hotel is five minutes away. I'm not sure my car can handle
this much weight all at once.

They check in, and then I drive father to our house, and I give him my car
keys and entrust him with the life of my little car.

And then I take the dogs to the kennel, which is way over in Oregon, on the
other side of Portland. It's much too far for us, but our dogs are happy
there, and they, the kennel people I mean, treat them well, and even Honey
runs in excitedly, happy to see her friends there. She has few friends since
she's very choosy, but she lets them pet her and she just smiles at them.
It's a long drive, and the closer we get to the kennel the more excited the
dogs get, and this is five miles out still.

Whew. One more task down. I realize I've had nothing to eat so far except an
energy bar, so I stop at McD's, which doesn't have healthy food, but I'm
fond of the french fries, so I make do.

Charming husband tells me, as I drive home, that the 'rents are out looking
for a mall, but they took the wrong highway to get to the one they were
aiming for, so they stopped at Clackamas, which has a mall, to get something
to eat. Charming husband then directed them to Bridgeport, since
mother-in-law is looking for a particular store. At this I shriek in horror,
"She doesn't need any more clothes! Where's she going to put them?"

On the way back home I get stuck in Portland traffic on the 5. I sit. And I
wait. I'm in the Honda, which doesn't have air conditioning, because I let
the 'rents have the good car, the one with the air. It takes me what seems
like forever, and when I get home I hobble out of the car carefully, and
limp over to get the mail. There are no checks today, which saddens me, but
I'll get over it.

Instead of working as I was supposed to, I take a nap. I'm too tired to do
anything else, and I'm not even on vacation yet.

At 7 pm charming husband gets off work, and he contacts the parents. They're
in Bridgeport, and mother-in-law is trying on clothes. Again, I say, "She
doesn't NEED any more clothes!" But so be it.

Once she finishes her shopping, which is a fantasy since her shopping is
never finished, only occasionally delayed, they are to come here, if they
can find it again, so we can all go have dinner, and in Vancouver, charming
husband insists, we're not going to go driving all over the greater Portland
area tonight.

Tomorrow we drive to California, assuming we can fit all that baggage and
five people into one vehicle. I have my doubts. What doesn't fit will be
left here, at the house.

And now it's time to pack.

-- 
Monique Colver