Getting to Utah

This topic deserved a post all it's own.  Just getting to my parents' house in Utah was such an...adventure.

It started out fine, really.  I stuffed my two carry-ons (well, carry on and diaper bag, which was as big as a small carry on) to the max.  I really didn't want to pay that extra $25 just to get things there.  Aaron and Lizzie accompanied me and Carson to the airport.  As I got out and got Carson all situated beside me, Lizzie realized I was going away.  Big tears started rolling down her face as she said defiantly, "But Mommy, I don't want to miss you!"  I was torn.  But I gave her a long hug and a kiss and said I'd call her and see her in only four days and turned to get to the lines.

The first line was pretty easy, where I got my boarding pass and just hurried up to the gate.  The next was fairly quick as well, with the only hiccup being that I forgot to put my wallet into the little bucket and the beeper went off.  I was impressed with Carson doing so well, since I had the diaper bag sitting on the small rolling suitcase and he was walking decently beside or right in front of me.  Having arrived early, we had a bit of a wait, but I pulled out some snacks and a cars and he entertained himself, driving the cars along the almost-empty waiting seats, dropping it in the space between the backs and crawling under.  After a bit, another young child came and Carson made friends with a little girl who'd be sharing our flight.  When I say 'made friends' I mean, he indulged in her toys but made a stink every time she wanted to touch one of his cars.

We boarded the plane after a quick last potty stop (and stinky diaper stop).  As we stepped on, Carson veered off to the cockpit.  The captain and his partner chuckled and let him wander the tiny space, looking at buttons and fingering buttons, but actually doing nothing.  The flight attendants smiled at him.  We made it to our seats and I was pleasantly surprised to find that because the flight wasn't filled up, we had a seat extra in our row for him to sit in.  I took the aisle and settled Carson in the middle, with a kind Spanish man at the window.  I know he was kind because when the captain announced that Minneapolis was having a ground stop (no flights in or out) and we sat on the tarmac for an hour, this kind man let Carson sit on his lap to lift and lower the window shade.  The whole hour.   When we did get into the air, Carson decided not to sit nicely in his seat, so I, realized it was naptime anyway, pulled him into my lap where he slept and I dozed for most of the flight.

The last five minutes on the plane were ugly.  Carson doesn't wake well anywhere, and in a confined space full of strangers where Mom won't let him go, it was awful.  Add to that, the reality that my layover in Minneapolis was only supposed to BE an hour and I was frantic and frustrated and on the verge of tears that I might not make it to my parents'.  A man behind me checked on his phone and informed me that even with the ground stop before, the flight to Salt Lake was scheduled on time.  Eek!  On time meant I had ten minutes to get across the airport!  I pulled a struggling Carson down the aisle, pausing only to ask a desk clerk where the gate was that I needed.  It had a different letter, and in Minneapolis, this meant several moving sidewalks, the central terminal and more corridors.  Carson wailed and tried to squirm from my arms.  I closed my eyes and said a little prayer that I might make the flight while I let some tears gather.

Suddenly, a man beside me was asking if he'd heard me needing to get to Salt Lake.  He'd been on my flight as well,  and pointed out that there was one of those airport cars unloading some older people right in front of us.  In desperation, I gathered my two bags as he kindly took a sad Carson and we hurried to the cart.  The driver looked glum when we told him what gate we needed.  "Don't you realize that's a little over a mile away?  You better get on here and we'll hurry."  The Salt-Lake-bound man gave Carson back to me in the middle row and took the front seat while the driver loaded our little carry-ons to the back.  I didn't know these little carts could go so fast.  The man with us leaned forward in his seat, calling out, "Please move" and "We're really in a hurry" and "Sorry, we can't stop right now" as the driver zoomed over that mile.  A little over five minutes later, we pulled up to the gate where the gate people were just getting ready to close the doors.  I mean, they actually had to re-open the door for us.  Relieved, I hugged and thanked the driver and got myself and Carson onto the plane.  Happily, the cart ride had mollified him, so he was a pleasant little boy the entire next flight where, also happily, the middle seat was empty once again.

Once in Salt Lake, I found and thanked the man who'd helped us to the cart and had given me that little hope I needed to get there.  I called my mom and said we were ready to be picked up and not long after that, we were on our way to her house and some waiting Mexican chicken soup.  Greeting my little sister, eating, visiting, and staying up forever commenced.  That night, in family prayer, Mom thanked Heavenly Father for all the people who answered my prayers and helped me in any way on my trip.  I was so grateful too!