Almost-Live Blogging The Getting To The Airport Edition

6:15: I am out of bed and out of Andrew's room with my laptop and a robe. This is my sort of quiet time, where I sneak down and use the internet, chat with my mom and eat my first half of breakfast (greek yogurt and unsweetened cranberry juice as as quick smoothie today). One of Andrew's roommates skulks from her bed to use the bathroom and glazedly glares past me when she notices the light is on in the living room and kitchen. Like a vampire faced with the noonday sun, she retreats (possibly hissing). For me, breakfast comes in about four Acts. This is Act 1.

7:00: We're supposed to wake up at 7:00 to leave at 9:00 by Andrew's estimation. This of course means different things to both of us. To me any set time means approximately fifteen minutes before that time. To Andrew it means about fifteen minutes after. This often creates a twenty minute space of tension between my version of running behing (five minutes after I was ready to be on the road) and running early (five minutes before he's ready to be on the road). I've learned not to expect Andrew to be awake at 7:00, but start to think about returning upstairs for our mutual waking up period.

7:03:  I meant to give Andrew more time, but it's *after 7:00* so I'm back up in Andrew's room. The alarm is on and the coffee is percolating. Andrew is not percolating. I knw better than to try to rouse him before there is coffee, so I sit at his desk with my laptop and continue to perpetuate my chat with my mom and my google plus addiction (PLUS FIFTY THOUSAND!!! Yes, I get a little shot of dopamine with every plus I hit)

7:06: The coffee is definitely ready. I slowly move towards the mugs and collect us both a cup each.

7:10: I turn the light on and sit by the side of the bed with Andrew's coffee mug and a piece of dark chocolate as the loris stirs. Once Andrew has his mug, I hand him his glasses and go to retrieve my mug.

7:15 Andrew's sitting up, hunched over his coffee with his eyes closed. I think he looks like a newborn kitten that way. Except I suppose you shouldn't feed kittens coffee. I am now pontificating in rapid fire legalese about a case before the Supreme Court to do with artificial reproduction and survivor benefits. After about a thousand quickly muttered words, Andrew weighs in as well and then I add about fifteen thousand more words. I haven't had coffee much recently, so the half a mug that I've started sipping on is having at least a strong placebo effect.

7:16: I tell Andrew his phone is flashing at him. I have a compulsion with flashing phone lights and cannot not notice them. He is less concerned about it and I manage to turn back to check my phone (no flashing)

7:26: Andrew sits up looking around with a look I tell him I know to be the "I need to use the restroom" look.  I am sure he is happy that I explain to him that I know this look as I take the mug from his hands. As he leaves, I immediately jump back onto the internet (PLUS FIVE MILLION!!) and reload my work email.

7:32: We are now having our allotted morning time, which is sacred to me and necessary to Andrew. Both awake and both sipping. I spend most of it grilling Andrew about our schedule for the week. Andrew eventually just resends me the itenerary his mom proposed and I start talking about the traffic report for Kirkwood.

7:55: It being just shortly before an hour before we need to leave, I jump out of bed and start dressing in my usual pre-trip haste. I am fully dressed with shoes, coat and scarf within a few short seconds.Purse is in my lap.

7:59: Andrew decides to print out the bill break down for his roommates, while I "wander" downstairs to reheat my coffee.

8:00: I have buckwheat pancakes that I made earlier in the week and which fall into the "perishable" category and thus should be eaten before we leave. So I decide to start breakfast. I inundate Andrew's allotted pancakes (the stack minus the one that I want) in maple syrup and butter and melt more butter in his frying pan for the eggs.

8:06: Andrew comes down with the printed bill break down, which he is trying to put on the fridge as I am trying to put the eggs back into the fridge. I know I could just wait, but somehow manage to keep trying to open the fridge while he is trying to put the bill on it. Eventually the bill drops to the ground and I sneak past. VICTORY!

8:08: Andrew notices that eggs are on the stove in a frying pan and he says "oooh you started eggs for me. You're so good to me." I mutter something hurriedly like "uh huh" and mention there are pancakes too as if I were telling him off. He wanders back towards the stairs, unaffected. The nice thing about Andrew's tired is that he is impervious to my potentially abrasive impatience when I'm focusing on the schedule.

8:10: breakfast is ready faster than I expected (never happens to me!). I have no idea where Andrew went and if I should bring the breakfast up to his room or if he will join me downstairs. I pace the kitchen trying to decide, then go halfway to his room with his breakfast before noticing he's in the bathroom and decide to set up at the table. I wash the frying pan.

8:12: I am certain breakfast is freezing cold by now, obviously! I remember that when we were at the grocery store yesterday so I could buy food for the plane (we're flying at lunchtime), Andrew said he didn't need to buy anything and would just make himself a sandwich. I pull out his bread thinking I might just make the sandwiches before deciding, that would be a bit more "mother" than considerate and put the sandwich back in the shelf.

8:14: Andrew comes out of the bathroom. I announce there is breakfast and he comes to said breakfast which I have decided is probably gelid now. It actually is still somewhat warm. The pancakes are incredibly absorbant and have soaked up the ocean of syrup that I poured over them earlier. Still speaking a million miles a minute, I explain that he can have more maple syrup if he wants.

8:15 Andrew mentions there's a sort of tart flavor and asks if there's molasses on the pancakes. After some discussion he notices the eggs seem spicy too. I realize that oh I had used his fork to mix *my* eggs (which I flavor with a bunch of cayenne) and that's apparently what he was tasting. He says I should never explain. I continue to explain. Then I give a good minute narration on my buckwheat pancakes and how I am intending to use them as a replacement for toast in the mornings. He eventually talks. About skis.

8:17: I have finished my second part of breakfast and am watching Andrew trying not to appear impatient. Almost everything is packed, but *not everything*!!!

8:19: Andrew says he will take a shower. I say "ok" before he has finished his sentence, and grab the breakfast plates from him, immediately washing them.

8:20: I come upstairs. Andrew is at the computer telling me about a funny post George Takei has made. I say "oh yeah, I've seen that" rather curtly while making a second pot of coffee.

8:22: Andrew hops in the shower and coffee is brewing. I run downstairs and contemplate the sandwiches Andrew said he'd make. Again I decide to let him do them if he wants. I mete out my remaining food for the plane and pack it, also raiding the house candy jar for all those little vanilla tootsie roll type candies, which cascade by the handfuls into my bag. They make me feel like I'm at the bank! Apparently to me this is a good thing.

8:37: Andrew comes back from the shower and says he'd thought about shaving, but the hot water is off in his bathroom. I have fininshed my packing except for my computer, which I am maniacally using to continue plussing everything possible.

8:45: Andrew is now finishing his packing. I tell him I am grabbing the book that he had said he wanted to lend me.

8:52: Andrew's bag looks pretty loaded, so I pack up my computer and bring my stuff downstairs. Immediately I reach for my phone having been without internet access for possibly two or three minutes.

8:55: Andrew says quite officially that he is ready to start loading things to the car and I say "YEP!" as if he had just said "you have a nose." He starts loading and I frantically run through the kitchen to see if there's anything else I can pack. I look once more at the sandwich situation and decide Andrew probably would just as soon eat airport food.

8:58: Andrew comes back in after a third time and I greet him with "LAST LOAD???" to which he says yes he is going to blow his nose and then set out. I say ok roughly four words into his sentence, and go out with all of my stuff. I manage to hit my head on the trunk door roughly five times in as many seconds, but still get my bags more or less in the back of the pathfinder.

8:59: I've loaded all of my stuff in the car, but notice the door to the passenger door is locked. I stand there uncomfortable for a matter of seconds before deciding to go back in and check on the status of Andrew's nose.

9:00: Andrew and I meet at the door as he is heading out with some more stuff. We walk back to the car.

9:01: we leave. This is the part where my anxiety passes. As long as we are in the car, the job of getting from there to the airport is Andrew's as far as I'm concerned. The coffee buzz effervesces from sheer agitation to chipper bonhommie. Andrew hands me his phone to locate directions to the parking lot.

9:05: Ten cars nearly destroy us on I-5. Typical Monday morning traffic. I say it's lucky it's not 8:30 because when I ride through there at 8:30, the traffic is backed up all the way.

9:06 Andrew begins his traditional "I hate Washington state drivers and/or freeway design" refrain, which is sort of his mariner's sea chanty of any trip lasting more than four minutes. I don't know why I feel compelled to defend Washington state in any way, but sometimes I try just to be obnoxious I suppose. He's officially assumed the pre-trip anxiety and I am blissfully plussing things on my phone and babbling instead of muttering about the differences between his phone and mine (the button you push to turn on the screen is different on his than mine, for instance!).

9:13: Andrew tells a car that has pulled in front of us that a turn signal would have been nice and I mention that the car did actually signal, which I know because i was just thinking how it was kind of a hard signal to see. Andrew tells me how if he were rich he would start a campaign to ensure that all turn signals were properly visible.

9:20: We reach our exit and Andrew asks for the next steps. As per usual, I give him the next four steps in the directions because I like to anticipate. I don't think he liked that much.

9:22: I say "keep right at the fork" and he tells me no, because don't we want 154th... oh crap. We wanted the right lane. We're in the middle. Andrew hates Washington highways. Andrew tells me to put the phone into navigation mode, which I manage after what must be the longest 30 seconds of our mutual lives.

9:23 The phone chirpily instructs us to take exit number somethingorother and Andrew mutters that he can't tell if the next exit is that exit. It isn't labeled with an exit number and says "cell phone lot" and "arrivals" only. I shrug and hold the phone up.

9:24: We take the exit and the phone tells us to turn left onto a street. Apparently that was the correct exit. The street also isn't labelled and Andrew mutters about this.

9:25: It's the right street and we see our parking lot. Hurray! Andrew gets into the far right lane and as I start asking if we don't want to be in the middle lane, he realizes we do and swerves into it proclaiming "I *hate* Washington roads!" I, unable to help myself, say "no" or something equally useless that I'm happy enough he doesn't hear.

9:31: We pull into the lot which has a number of lanes and looks like the line for the ferry. Andrew is thoroughly confused, and I have to admit I'm not really sure what we're supposed to do here. I suggest it's probably a valet lot and we should pull into a lane and go into the office. He mutters some more, parks in a far away lane and charges into the office to explain he's never done this before and doesn't know what to do. The lady tells us to go back to our car and wait for an attendant and he checks to make sure that we don't have to pay extra for the valet service.

9:32: An attendant meets us as we are taking our luggage from the back. Andrew is talking about how he loves his mom and his brother and all, but something about traveling... The attendant asks if the keys are in the car. Andrew hasn't heard him so I say "he has them" which tips Andrew off to start taking the key off the ring. While this happens the attendant writes out a ticket for us and I say "brrr you must be cold."

9:33: The attendant walks to the front of the car. Andrew starts trying to follow him around the car in a short game of pop goes the weasel in an attempt to hand him the keys. I suggest he leave the keys and ticket portion in the car and that we're good. Andrew looks at the ticket, shows that it uses an apostrophe to pluralize "kiosk" and asks me don't I HATE it when people do that. I say I guess I find it more amusing and he agrees that when he's not in a mood to find fault in everything he does too. I suggests that we should find a new lot where they can use proper punctuation.

9:35: We're on the shuttle.

9:42: We're at the airport. Wow. As we get off, I shepard us to the skyway to get from the parking garage into the actual terminal. Andrew is carrying three bags, including his skis. Yes, yes you know those silent movies where people turn around and swing ladders and long packages into nearby bystanders... it is a few close shaves for my head here.

9:52: Andrew notices another instance of Budget using an apostrophe to pluralize "kiosk"

10:05: We are in line to check out bags. An attendant comes up to us and compliments my dance moves (apparently there was samba music on as I am dancing a samba). I stop... sort of and hand him our i.d.cards. The attendant gives us some luggage tags and tells us to fill out our names and phone numbers. Andrew says he doesn't need to and another attendant comes to us. Luckily he does not care about the bag tagging at all but wants to marshall us through the next steps of bag checking, which involves transferring our tickets and i.d. cards to him. We are passed off to yet another attendant who finally is at some kind of desk and finally takes our bags from us. Most of them.

10:06: Andrew's skis need to be checked at the oversized luggage area, which is apparently past the "Iceland Air" sign. Andrew nearly swoops his skis into my face a few times as he looks around and then takes off stridently. I have to recall that *purposefully* is how he always walk and he does not necessarily have any idea where he's walking. A question confirms this theory. He says we have probably over shot while I say "no wait" and point to the Iceland Air sign. He begins to explain that his brain has decided to no longer read poorly designed signs, which apparently include white text on black backgrounds. We agree this is unfortunate, but find the oversized bagging room. The man there asks Andrew something about locks and Andrew explains something I don't hear and the man doesn't seem to understand. A few more interchanges of mutual uncomprehension and Andrew leaves the skis with him and we're off to security.

10:10: Security is a complete breeze and we have arrived. Almost an hour and a half early. Andrew allotted this time, even. I'm thrilled to pieces to have time to relax, but I think Andrew wishes we'd left a little later.

At about 11:30 (when the plane is supposed to leave), we'll start boarding. Andrew is pleasantly self-aware that he is not at his most happiest while traveling and I reassure him that I've seen him in a supermarket, so this is nothing. In the future, there will be an hour and a half plane trip followed by a three hour drive into what looks an awful lot like The Shining. There will be limited internet access after all. Oh and Andrew finally will eat lunch at around three at a gas station after I finally ask didn't he not have lunch yet.