Alright so here's the deal. We just finished out longggg week in Florida and I think we're all ready to get back to the routine of normal life. Not ready to get back to work - that's for sure - but I'm ready to get back to my friends, the boy, and just the little things about home that makes it, well, home.
We get to the airport and look at the departure schedule...our flight: delayed. Of course. All I want to do is get home and have a nice big Subway sandwich and our flight gets delayed. Andddd it doesn't say til when....just yet.
After we go through the security, get body scanned, and sit at terminal 122, I took out my trusty lap top to see if I can find out why we're delayed and what our new departure time will be. What happens next?? No. Internet. Why am I not surprised? So, the boy looked online for me and it said we would be delayed 55 minutes. Not too bad, right?
Wrong. about ten minutes later, they made an announcement that our flight would be leaving at 1:30 and not arriving back home until 4:30. Why in the hell is it taking three hours? I have no clue. Then about 15 minutes later, another announcement was made about the final details about flight 1300. Departure: 1:40. Arrival: 4:15. Better than 4:30, I suppose, but it's still over two hours after we were supposed to get home.
Luckily, I now have internet so that will keep me occupied for a bit. However, I have this family sitting next to me who has three little boys. I'm going to say 4, 6, and 8 years old. The parents are trying to play Uno with them and screeeammminggggg at them because they don't know how to play. Then they bicker among themselves. Trouble in paradise? Talk about parents of the year.