Breaking the Rules at 70
For months preceding my husband’s70th birthday I begged, pleaded and implored him to allow friends and family tocelebrate this milestone occasion. Proposed options included: (a) acatered dinner for family and friends; (b) a pilgrimage to his native Atlanta,kind of a “best of Jim Kitchens” tour; (c) a family golf tournament at CallowayGardens, complete with brunch and cocktail party—a suggestion from his son; or (d)an island paradise retreat at Captiva/Sanibel for kids and grandchildren—assuggested by my son. Bloated creditcards and family fights, however, did not sound like paradise to Jim.
“Well, what do you want?” I finally asked. “I want to go someplace beautiful with you, some place where we’ve never been, some place where I can unplug and be wasted for five days.” That’s when I realized how saddled this impending 70 year old had been with too many obligations and responsibilities. Southern California beckoned as a good short-term destination site with the added bonus of legal marijuana edibles. “That will certainly help you unplug”, I offered.
Our twosome travel had becomeincreasingly rare. Our “away time” moreoften devoted to kids and grandchildren living in other cities. We savored the anticipation of our romanticgetaway just as we did in our younger years.
Which brings me to 4:00am on ourdeparture date. Our 6:30am flight meantgetting up excruciatingly early, the upside being we arrived in California at8:30am with an entire day of 68 degree sunny weather beckoning. Our early-to-bed strategy, however, precludedus from seeing the midnight message from Southwest Airlines advising us ourflight had been cancelled. Of course weonly saw the text following our coffee injections and showers.
“Oh my goodness”, said theinsincere Customer Service lady unlucky enough to be answering calls at 4:45 inthe morning. “Nope, that was the onlynon stop flight today. The only otherflight we can get you on leaves at 6:00 pm going through Kansas City andgetting in to San Diego at 10pm. Oh, andyour seat positions will be C 40 and 41. But don’t you worry, your early bird fees for your previously bookedflights will be refunded back to your credit card.”
Crushed, we went back to bed andpulled the covers over our head.
Four hours of nightmare infusedsleep over, we set about contacting Hertz, the Hotel Del, and Southwest formore begging and pleading. Once again wewere reminded the only room at the inn was C 40 and 41 assuring us we would bein middle seats by the back bathrooms. “That is unless you are eligible for pre-boarding”, she added seeminglyas an afterthought. “Ding dingding! Pre-boarding? “How do you dothat?” I queried picturing the line of wheelchair inhabited disabled passengersallowed early admission to the plane.
Now really and truly my knee hurts terribly and my limping isfor real. I’m actually having knee replacement surgery on June 5th. I decided to fudge the date a bit. A borrowedknee brace and one cane later and I was ready for my disability début.
Since we had the “gift” of this found time and I tend to be an incessant productivity-a-holic, I wanted to make arrangements for medical equipment for my post surgery stint (see, I really was injured). With efficiency in mind we identified a medical supply business in route to the airport. “I can also buy the cane there”, I thought adding pageantry to our airport presentation. “We don’t take your insurance” we were advised (crushing our anticipated efficiency plans). “But no worries! We will call”. A flurry phone calls ensued all in a language I did not understand and voila! problem solved. “Your hospital bed and 3-1 commode will be delivered prior to your surgery”. As we were leaving with our breast cancer ribbon bedecked cane I whispered, “I having a feeling Medicare just got defrauded” and we did not even know what was said. #canyousaykickback? But they were so nice...”.
So onward we drive to the airport forour evening flight. All thingsconsidered The OIA is a great airport. Lots of restaurants and shops, anyDisney World, Universal, and SeaWorld paraphernalia you could ever want isawaiting you for mere hundreds of dollars. They also have extensive parking, especially their terminal top garageflanking terminals A & B. Barrelinginto and intending to go upward in the winding garage we and others before uswere stopped by a slight neon attired garage attendant declaring to frustrateddrivers the garages were totally full and we would have to find parkingelsewhere. One by one the cars exitedper instruction. All except one. Ours. “We were planning to valet park at the Hyatt. Can we still do that?” “Sure no problem” hesaid moving the barricade aside. Fullconfession: We had no intention of valetparking for four days. We just wanted tocheck parking availability and, of course counted at least ten self-parkingplaces just on the first floor alone. Our chicanery was paying off. Doreal con artists experience this kind of adrenaline rush?
Southwest was more than happy to share their inventory of wheel chairs with gimpy me, at which point we cued up in a line of ten awaiting porters to usher us through to the gate.
And we waited and waited. “Can my husband take me?” I tentatively asked. “Sure!” she said happy to be relieved of one of her burdens. Away we sailed to the security line, dragging our rolling bags along like we were pet walkers, trying to avoid careening into innocent bystanders with our girth. “You are so slow!” I admonish my husband/driver. “It won’t go, there is too much stuff on here (me being a big part of the stuff). Oh wait, the brake was on. Now, that is better.” People took pity on us, even offering to help in lieu of being harpooned by my cane.
“Even though Southwest said therewere no upgrades available, I’m going to check with the gate agent” Jimsaid. I hung back piled high withbackpacks, sandwiches, and luggage. Moments later my husband appears discodancing down the corridor waving new boarding passes. For $50 C40 and 41 had transformed into A7and 8. I actually had mixed feelingsabout aborting our pre-boarding plan, but the faking it thing was getting old.
My wise psychologist son talked me through my early morning fog of disappointment. “I spend a lot of my practice counseling people on managing disappointments.” That counsel stayed with me helping us transform an inconvenience into an adventure. It was also fun to be a little bit of a rule breaker at 66 and 70. #ifnotnowwhen?
