parens binubus

more than you want to know about a law school graduate/bar examinee who is also raising two children and doing her best at being a partner to her love.

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  • Friday, August 10, 2007
    Zuska the Dork, v4
    I think we're only up to 4.

    On Wednesday, while Beloved was in the shower, I rifled through his bags to find our trip itinerary. I wanted to know what time we were leaving and clearly could not wait the 2.3 minutes until he emerged from the shower (mmm, yummy ... Beloved fresh from shower).

    I saw the time: 3:10.

    Good, I thought. We have a good chunk of the day to play in Amsterdam, still. We had decided to get a shuttle to the airport, rather than take the train, on account of the extra bags we acquired, filled to the rim with souveniers and goodies, and did the math to figure out what time to make a reservation for. We made the reservation for 12:45, which would get us to the airport at 1:15, approximately 2 hours before the flight, as "required" for international flights.

    We woke earlier than usual on our departure day (Thursday .... god, only YESTERDAY?), and checked out of the hotel by 9 or so. We then walked down the Leidseplein* to a pancake house (sports bar by night) next to what seemed the most commercial of "coffeeshops" - the Bull Dog (which we had not visited). We nibbled happily on pancakes and went for our final (and 50th?) stroll of the streets and canals of the city. We bought chocolate. We discussed what food to bring on the plane. Then Beloved said:
    I know you said the flight was at 3, and I didn't check for myself, do you know if it was right at 3? Or 3:30? Or what?
    Hmm. I thought 3.

    Then I started to freak out. I couldn't picture the itinerary in my head. When I looked, it was for a general sense of things, not to really confirm the time. Not all official and stuff. What if I got it wrong? What if it was the time we were landing in Iceland (fucking Iceland)? My heart started to race, and I told Beloved, "we need to go back to the hotel now."

    The itinerary was in the luggage room, in his carry on case. We pulled it out.

    Guess what time our plane was taking off?

    Not 3:10.

    It was landing at 3:10. In Iceland.

    It was taking off at 2 p.m.

    So really, 12:45 would not be the death of us, we would just be there 45 minutes early instead of 2 hours.

    We had the desk clerk call the shuttle company, and she was only able to bump us up by 30 minutes. We ended up spending that 30 minutes sitting nervously in the hotel lobby, instead of casually strolling along the streets of Amsterdam.

    In the end, it all worked out fine.

    Despite the fact that I'm the world's biggest dork.

    AND! guess what?

    We had been saying for weeks that the girls are coming home at 1 p.m. tomorrow.

    I just pulled up their itinerary.

    They land at 5.

    Will I ever grow up? Ever?

    *I'm so proud - I spelled it right on my first try!!


    posted by Zuska @ 5:06 PM  
    • At Friday, August 10, 2007 8:53:00 PM, Anonymous PT-LawMom said…

      LOL! At least you caught yourself both times. That could have upped the adventure factor on your trip a bit and your kids might have thought you had so much fun in Europe that you forgot about them. Glad you're home safe. :)

    • At Friday, August 10, 2007 8:56:00 PM, Blogger Zuska said…

      No! I would have been *early* for the girls! (By 4 hours.)

      Never in a million years would I not be there for my kidlets the second they stepped off the plane!!

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