Sunday in review

Since it's never quiet around here, I thought I'd share my last Saturday/Sunday in February with you all ...

My Dad was supposed to travel to St. Thomas with his girlfriend, Susan. They were supposed to leave Sunday morning from Grand Rapids, Michigan to fly to O'Hare and then transfer and get on the plane to St. Thomas. You may notice the use of the word, supposed.

I called my Dad Saturday night to tell him to have a good trip and what not. While I was at it I mentioned that I hoped his flight was okay since the snow was coming.

Dad, "what snow?"

Me, "Dad, there's a blizzard across northern Illinois, right in line for you."

Dad, "oh, really. I should call the airline, huh?"

Me, "I've got the computer up, let me check for you."

A few minutes pass while I try to find his flight ...

Me, "Dad, your flight is canceled."

Dad, "What?"

Me, "Dad, your flight out of Grand Rapids is canceled, but your O'Hare flight is still on."

Dad, "Hmm ..."

Me, "Dad, you can drive down if you want, leave your car and we'll get it out of parking (I have no idea how we would do that, since we wouldn't have the keys or anything, or access to the parking lot) or we can meet you somewhere and bring your car back here."

Dad, "Hmm ... lemme call you back."

My Dad checked with the airlines to make sure he wasn't going to get labeled a terrorist or something for catching his connecting flight in Chicago if he missed his (canceled) originating flight out of Grand Rapids. He called back an hour later:

Dad, "Can you please drive us to the airport"

Me, "Yes, Dad, when will you be here?"

Dad, "We'll be there by four thirty, five o'clock so we can be at the airport by six."

Me, "Okay, drive safe, see you in a few"

Fast forward all of four hours and my alarm goes off at 3:45.

I got dressed and shoveled the heavy, wet snow. Needless to say, I was the only person up at 4 am on a snowy Sunday, with the exception of the newspaper delivery guy, and he was late too.

I called my Dad at 4:15 and left a message.
I called my Dad at 5:15 and left a message.

My Dad called me at 5:20 from the gas station on the corner, "I'll be there in five minutes, just wanted to let you know I was on my way."

He pulled in my driveway, said "Hi" to my husband and we hopped in my car and off we went. Whee ...

On the way to the airport, we saw one overturned vehicle, which was probably his own fault because it was at the end of a very fun, very fast on ramp, so my guess is that he took it too fast and flipped his car.

Another car was on the shoulder of the east bound lanes, facing west.

So, as we're actually making the loop around the airport, getting ready to get off for the terminal, BAM, I got sideswiped by a cab. Nice. I had just finished telling my Dad that it was a miracle that my car had lasted as long as it had, considering the first six weeks I owned it, I put seven major marks on it, including shutting the garage door on it twice. In my defense, it was also the last six weeks of my pregnancy and my brain had obviously been taken over by my placenta.

So ... I get to deal with Matthew the cab driver. He is actually a very nice man, and he thought he only clipped me with his side view mirror. That was until I pointed out the dent in my passenger door, the yellow paint on both my doors and on my rear quarter panel. I also pointed out his cracked headlight casing and the grey paint on his car.

As we're exchanging information, the police pulled up and asked if we needed a report. It turns out that in the city of Chicago, you have to file the report in the city of the accident, you cannot just do it in the town you live in. And, I'm sure it's not just a Chicago thing, but an everywhere thing. Given my relative lack of police interactions of the accident kind (I have had others), this was news to me. However, she was nice enough to let me drive my Dad and Susan to the terminal so they could catch their flight.

At the terminal, my Dad literally jumped out of the car and had my gate open before I could get back there, I got a quick hug and he literally ran across the street, Susan trying to keep up. I don't think I've ever seen my Dad that anxious in my ENTIRE life. It turns out that they had to stand in very long lines and they made their gate by five minutes. It does not help that they flew out of Gate C31. If you've ever been at O'Hare, you know that Gate C31 is practically in Indiana. I've landed at Gate C31, and I can tell you, I've walked in shorter fundraisers than that.

So ... I got my police report and Matthew wants to pay out of pocket so it doesn't go on his record. However, the estimates for my car are coming in at $1250 and $1610, and that doesn't include a three day car rental. I'm thinking I'm going to be dealing with insurance very soon.

My Dad and Susan made it to St. Thomas safely and, after the commotion at O'Hare, uneventfully. He did return my calls on Monday, he couldn't quite figure out why I was calling from the driveway, though ... then it hit him that they were messages from Sunday. It turns out that they started their trip by spilling a bottle of water all over his cell phone, which is why he didn't answer my calls.

I was back in my driveway by 7:30 Sunday morning, just in time to see the neighbors pull out to go to church. I had already had a cup of Starbucks from the Oasis, and was looking forward to a nap. The nap didn't happen, life did.

My Dad and Susan are now somewhere in the southern United States, probably the New Orleans area ... they will make their way back up here, after having flown into Miami and renting a car. They'll drive back to my house to pick up Dad's car and then make their way back to Michigan.

My Dad's funny ... he's one of the least talkative, most laid back, most difficult to get riled people out there. Which, if you actually know me, is odd, since I'm pretty much not. I guess I get that from my Mom - she's Child #8 of 10, so I'm sure that has something to do with it. It was just nice to see my Dad ready to take a real vacation, one without kids, something I don't think he's ever done. I'm hoping he's enjoying his two weeks, and I am looking forward to seeing him later this week. I've also made some Three Berry Jam for him too.

I'm so the oldest child.