Traveling Sucks

I just got back from Humansville, Missouri, for my annual visit with the in-laws. It’s deer hunting season once again, a tradition that my husband loves, so I tag along like a good little wife (fodder for future book entitled, Marriage Sucks). Although I can’t say that I too love this time of year, this isn’t even the sucky part.
To get to Humansville is no easy feat. We have to fight the traffic to get to LAX, park our car, and take the shuttle bus to the terminal (I’m already exhausted at this point). Then there’s a layover over in Denver, another flight to Kansas City, a schlep to get the rental car, and a three hour drive to my in-law’s farm. While there, my husband spends all day hunting, my kid plays by the lake with her cousins (wearing orange of course so she won’t be shot), and I visit with the womenfolk, chatting about our kids, and exchanging recipes that involve packaged biscuit dough. But wait, we’re still not at the sucky part.
This trip was particularly difficult because, while we were waiting to have my husband’s guns screened at LAX, the airport was evacuated (no, not because of his guns). By the time we were allowed back inside, we barely made our plane, then raced to make our connection in Denver with only minutes to spare. Of course, our luggage never made the flight. All the next day, I chatted with several heavy accented phone operators who tried desperately to find our luggage while I tried desperately to understand what the hell they were saying. They assured me that our luggage would be delivered that afternoon. It was not.
The next day, when my mother-in-law graciously offered me a pair of her underwear, I knew it was time to go back to the airport to search for it ourselves. We did, and finally located it buried in the back of another airlines baggage department. Happy to have my suitcase in my arms, and even happier not to have my mother-in-law’s undies on my crotch, I read over the notes about our bag’s whereabouts. It seems that it had been erroneously shipped all over the country, from Dallas to Memphis, and even a quick stop over in Vegas. Yes, while I was hearing about quick and easy cinnamon buns, my luggage was having the time of its life. Right then a tear welled up in my eye. My husband thought I was just glad to have my stuff back when in truth, I had never been so jealous of a green canvas roller bag in my life. Traveling does indeed, suck.

One response to “Traveling Sucks

  1. Why does Jeff shlep his guns back and forth? Why not just keep them there? Isn’t that the only place he uses them? Sounds like a thoroughly exhausting trip. The things we do for our husbands and kids.

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