Unaccompanied Minors

Yesterday Darla and Harry went on an airplane by themselves. Since it is the religion of my family to worry about things that don’t exist, I got a call in the morning saying it might be raining in Philadelphia when they arrive. Really raining a lot. Maybe. Here’s what the voice in my head says when I get information like that.

(to myself)Oh whatever. Rain shmain. Pilots fly every day in bad weather.

(to my family member)You’re insane to worry. What’s your problem loading me up with your negative fearful thoughts?

(to myself) How am I related to these people?

(to my family member-FM) I hate you.

(to myself –MS) Rain. Rain. Thunderstorms. Lightening bolts.

(FM) Are you sure about the rain? Have you checked the weather?

(MS) Oh my god Lightening bolts. The plane will toss and turn and crash into a mountain. It will toss and turn for 45 minutes while Dar and Har suffer with fear and horror. And in the middle of the storm, a terrorist will stand up and spray all the passengers with his machine gun and they will all be wounded as the plane spirals downward into the rocks.

While the voice in my head is going on like this, outwardly I prepare to take my kids to the airport. We eat breakfast, walk the dogs, finish packing, watch cartoons, go on the computer. OHMYGODITS11:30WEHAVETOGORIGHTNOWCOMEONRIGHTNOW.

We run around and scream at each other for 5 minutes like the keystone cops.

We get in the car and just as I’m about to get on the entry to the freeway, I remember I don’t have cash. I do a quick U-ey and get lost looking for a Bank of America. I swear and drive like an insane maniac. I give up and go back to the one in my neighborhood, located completely in the opposite direction.

Back on the freeway there is miraculously no traffic and at once I am breathing normally and thinking this is fine, no probs, all is great. I am totally organized afterall. Why am I so hard on myself. Sheesh.

Then at the airport I can’t find the right garage. And we have to do the entire airport circle. Twice.

Then there is a line the full length of the Brooklyn Bridge to check in.

Ditto for the x-ray machine.

The whole time this is going on we are having a normal conversation. Harry is telling me about the new game on his DS. Dar is telling me what she downloaded on the ipod. We talk about Justin Beiber’s hair and the place in the Jersey Shore where they will be staying the second week of the visit. And some movies they want to see.

Meanwhile I’m sweating and feeling like I have to vomit.

Then Dar and Har get their plastic cards to hang around their neck to show that they are unaccompanied minors. (i.e. symbols of Children of divorce with horrible lives that are not their own). (Ok that thought doesn’t really stick but it does come into my head for an instant).

We still have 40 minutes. All is well. We didn’t have time for lunch but we’ll buy some snacks for the plane. Oh my God this is fantastic.

I go to the Starbucks and tell the barista my kids are traveling by themselves and my voice gets shakey and tears rise up. “Yes two weeks. Uh huh. Oh and two bananas too please.” I just keep talking because I wasn’t expecting this. I sniff and wipe my eyes before turning back to Dar and Har.

By then it is time for them to board. They are loaded with snacks and electronic gadgets. We hug and kiss and they run (literally) down the tube to the plane.

The plane is beautiful, purple, yellow and red. I can see little heads but I don’t know whose they are. Within seconds I get a text telling me they are seated in first class next to another unaccompanied minor named Morgan. I cry and am relieved and think that’s a good omen. Within ten minutes the plane pulls out, heads for the runway and lifts up into the air. I watch it until it is a tiny speck.