The Romanian Departure

4:30am. The sound of the doorbell rang, jarring Mark and me into a fury of flying bed sheets, flying appendages, and flying curse words. We slept through the 3:45am alarm that was geniusly set to silent. Thankfully the embassy drivers assigned to haul our butts to the airport were kind enough to ring the doorbell and check on us. Ignoring our daughter's protests from her crib, Margo watched us race back and forth through the house throwing last minute items into a bag, waking up my other child (Deets) all the while trying to remain calm.  Luckily Mark had the foresight to load our 6 bags, Jim-dog's kennel, and the stroller into the garage the night before and we managed to get everyone dressed, out the door in 20 minutes and into the van for the airport.

We practically skidded into the airport terminal throwing bags, stroller, and kids to a halt just inside the sliding glass doors. Neither of us had the wherewithal to move out of the chill of the morning, so while Mark took charge of getting Jim squared away, I stood in the airport surrounded by our pile-o-Schlink  pretending that I meant to match the fuzz of unbrushed teeth with my unbrushed hair and ignoring the sideways glances of my family's disheveled state. 55 minutes later Mark re-surfaced from the depths of the check in lines mentioning Jim's kennel might not fit onto the plane. This would mean he and Deets would take a different route, while Margo and I would continue on, but we would not find out until our arrival at the gate.

However, one step at a time. We received our boarding passes and bee lined to security where we had to wait for a couple to drag two sweater-clad pups out of their kennels by the scruffs of their necks where they were undressed and redressed with the leisure of a Sunday afternoon. I glanced at my imaginary watch nervously (no time this morning for such luxuries). Not that our sh*t-show was any better: we needed to break down the stroller, unload the electronics, unload Jim, and unstrap Margo only to walk through the metal detector and put ourselves back together again. We made it through border control and sprinted to the gate. Ignoring the stink-eye of our fellow passengers we boarded successfully after confirmation Jim could come with us after all. Off to Frankfurt...

...and two hours later we touched down for a 4.5 hour layover, hopefully enough time to drink a beer and wear down the children on the airport playground. Up to this point Margo and Deets held their own, though the former certainly had her beasty moments. I can't say I blame her; uprooting her reality didn't exactly help. The minutes ticked by to boarding time and we were off again. Thank goodness Deets is such a great traveler, we because this time Margo unleashed her inner beast. I'd say 7 out of the ten hours of flying time she hysterically fought sleep forcing Mark and I to take turns dealing with her. She walked up and down the aisles until Margo determined she needed to drink from stranger's cups, and grab at the crotches of unsuspecting passengers to say hello. Then we carried her up and down the aisles until her banshee sleep deprived shrieks reached a fever point. Only then did we put her in the car seat and waited for her to pass out.  I wonder if we will ever "break" her resistance to travel. Considering she's MY daughter, probably not. Karma's a mean one.

Freshly arrived sans deodorant and shower.
They took us home anyway.

The crew practically applauded us off the plane as we sleeplessly landed in Denver. I dared to feel relief when we flashed the Dip Passports, bypassing the throbbing line of exhausted travelers at Customs.  We collected our bags and dog and everything else that came with us and walked straight into the arms of our family who clearly didn't care about our bedraggled state of existence or the mysterious smells that we always seem to acquire during travel. We were home.