The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

The mizzus and me are cooling our heels in the SeaTac aerodrome for a few hours, having missed our flight to Albuquerque. Our baggage made the flight okay — our luggage is probably down there now waiting for us to get there around midnight. The way things are going our baggage probably shouldn’t stick around, just go on without us. I’d certainly understand, no hard feelings.

We have no one to blame but ourselves. Which is too damn bad because there’s plenty to go around. Icy roads, slow traffic, late departure, long lines at the TSA checkpoints, only one of us given a pre-check on our tickets so we got sent back to the long line we’d vacated after 15 minutes and then we opted for one that looked shorter and was but was barely moving. We hit the guy who checks ID and tickets before the strip-down and x-ray just as the plane took off. With our baggage.

Sure we could blame TSA or the weather or the airline that gave only one of a pre-check. But we should have gotten off from home two hours earlier. Bad math on our part, don’t even ask. Icy roads, rush hour traffic— trust me, usually I’d have left plenty of slop. Even if it meant more quality airport time. But we just didn’t do the right math when I gave us 3 hours. Before lift-off. I’ve taken longer than that just to get to the airport on days when slush and snow and glare ice aren’t factored into the equation. On good days we’d leave 4 hours earlier minimum.

So when we waltzed into Delta check-in with an hour to spare, I thought we were incredibly lucky. Ho ho. An hour in the TSA lines. Bye bye Birdie.

If our luggage hadn’t left us behind, I think we’d have decided our luck had run SO bad we’d have gone back to the parking lot, gotten in our car and driven south to wherever time allowed. But we’re waiting on another flight now. Personally, I’m worried this is just the beginning….

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