Travel Adventure 1: Getting There

At the hotel--too excited to go to sleep!

At 3:30 a.m. the next morning. I told you we didn't have a brush.

Well, we made it to Palm Springs and back. Barely, but we did. I’ll split our travel adventure into two posts—(1) getting there, and (2) being there.

On Saturday morning, things totally went our way. We got to the airport on time, checked in, and made it through security. Sure, Charlotte fell apart when TSA took her shoes, her mini football, and her snack container. Much screaming and crying commenced, and I consoled her the best I could, telling her to blame the government.

We FINALLY got to our gate (it takes forever to get anywhere at Dulles), which was overflowing with people. There, we learned our flight was delayed due to mechanical problems on our 400-year-old plane. We had an extremely tight connection in San Francisco, along with a few other folks, so the United agent told us to get back-up flights set ahead of time. At the counter, the agent looked at our flight and said whoever booked it did it wrong—we had an “illegal” connection (under 30 minutes) in San Francisco. (United cancelled our original flight and redirected us through Denver. I refuse to fly through Denver during February, so I called and fussed and insisted on flying through L.A. or San Francisco. Oops.) The agent informed us all other flights to Palm Springs were booked. All we could do was hope for a delay on the next flight, and then figure everything out in San Francisco.

Eventually, our flight West left—about 45 minutes late. Not terrible, but we were already screwed. Charlotte slept for the first hour (we brought her car seat on the plane), and enjoyed eating snacks and watching DVDs for the next bit of time. By hour three, she was antsy to move about. I took her to the back of the plane to change her wet diaper, only to learn that on this enormous plane, NONE OF THE BATHROOMS HAD CHANGING TABLES. Which, United Airlines, I find RIDICULOUS. Fortunately, a flight attendant said I could use their seat in the back, which drops down from the wall. This would have worked, but Charlotte didn’t weigh enough to keep the seat down. So, two older women who were hanging out in the back held down the seat while I changed Charlotte. It was very nice of them, and I thanked them profusely, but seriously. When you have several hundred passengers on each flight, you need an effing changing table.

Back at our seats, Charlotte fussed and fussed. We did everything we could to entertain her. Six full hours is a LONG flight for a two-year-old. At one point, we turned her car seat to face us and threw her football back and forth. This kept her happiest.

Finally, finally, finally, we landed in San Francisco. I grabbed Charlotte, leaving Chris to deal with the car seat, and barreled out of the plane (they let everybody with connections get off first). I ran to the departures screen, and our plane to Palm Springs was gone. We had totally missed the flight.

So, we got in a long line to talk to a less-than-perky United agent. We already knew it, but all flights to Palm Springs were booked through the weekend. After much research, we decided to take an early-morning flight to Ontario, California, about an hour-and-a-half away from Palm Springs.

By now it was about 4 hours or so past Charlotte’s bedtime, but she was happily entertaining herself on the single chair in the customer service area. She even found another toddler girl to play the “Hi.” “Hi.” staring game with.

United arranged for us to stay in a nearby hotel, and they gave us $45 in vouchers for airport dining. So, the logical thing was to eat dinner at the airport. Just so you know, at SFO, $45 will buy exactly: 1 banana, 1 fruit cup, one plate of questionable Chinese food, 1 burrito, and 3 bottles of water.

We didn’t have our luggage, and I was running low on diapers. So, we found a health and beauty store and bought a FOUR-DOLLAR DIAPER. One diaper. Four dollars. Thanks, United, for flying crappy old planes and booking layovers incorrectly! I should send them a bill. (Which would also include contact solution, toothbrushes, and toothpaste.)

So, the next step was waiting for the shuttle to take us to the hotel. For 30 minutes, we stood out in the wind, in our sunny Palm Springs clothes. Fortunately, I had packed a light windbreaker for Charlotte, but Chris and I were screwed. And cold.

Finally, the shuttle arrived. It then stopped at two other places, had a temporary mechanical difficulty of its own, and eventually we arrived at the hotel. There, we stood in another slow-moving line. Finally, we got into our room.

Charlotte took everything in stride, viewing the whole debacle as a grand adventure. By now, she was a good five hours or so past her bedtime, and although she was dead tired, she was totally having fun. Thank goodness. My love for her overflowed—bless her little adventurous heart. She was—truly—amazingly fantastic.

Because we had no luggage except for our carry-ons, we were pajama-less. I put Charlotte to bed naked (but with a diaper). Once she got past the excitement of a new bed in the SAME room as Mommy and Daddy, she pretty much passed out. Chris and I set three different alarms and tossed and turned all night.

At 3:30 a.m., all three of us were up. We showered the best we could, with the hard hotel soap and all, and put on the icky clothes from the day before. I had no make-up or even a brush, so getting ready took no time at all. Charlotte, lucky girl, had clean clothes (except for socks), as I had packed a bonus outfit for her in case of a poop explosion. Sometimes having people assume you’ll accidentally cover yourself in poo pays off.

We caught the shuttle back to the airport, checked in, and dropped another $20 at the airport Starbucks (1 milk, 1 cinnamon roll, 1 cup of coffee, and 1 yogurt). An hour-long flight to Ontario, and voila. We were FINALLY in Southern California.

Fortunately, once we got there, things got better. I’ll tell you about that in my next post.