Sunday, September 24, 2006

Part 5 c – My last mistake…before this trip.

Now, this last mistake that I can’t live down is really a painful one. Because I can’t blame anything or anyone else for it. It is wholly and completely my fault. We used a touring company for our last trip. The same one that we are using this time. Our TA was great. She took care of everything. But the one thing she didn’t handle was the plane tickets. I am internet savvy enough to book a flight on a plane. So I get our plane tickets purchased and we are ready to go.

When the trip comes, I print everything off and put it in my Passporter. Never had one problem while we were there. All of our dining ressies went off without a hitch. Room was perfect. Memories were made. Some resolutions were resolved: never take other family members to Disney World. And we were off to head home.

When we get to the airport, we are unloading the 4 gajillion bags that we brought, and I do curbside check in. It goes something like this.

“Hi, we are on flight such and such to Dallas.”

“Mr. Bergman, I can’t find you on this flight.”

“I’m sure this is the flight.”

“Well, the computer doesn’t show you here.”

“Well let me check my printout” says Mr.-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about-and-you-don’t-have-a-clue-how-to-use-your-computer-says-to-self.

I pull out the print out and see the flight number, airport, and the time. “See it’s right here.”

“Yes Mr. Bergman I see that, but that flight is for 3 days from now.”


Yes, dear friends who are now laughing hysterically at the obnoxious and arrogant goofball with a printout, I had booked a return flight 3 DAYS after our vacation had ended.

Now, the rest of the story. We pile the 4 gajillion bags into the airport and find the handy dandy telephone to call Delta and find a new flight home. One small problem stood in our way. I had just read in the newspaper (free at our Wilderness Lodge room door) that one of the PGA golf thingies (I’m not a sports person) was in Dallas. Starting that day. The day we needed to fly to Dallas. The day we were SUPPOSED to have seats on a plane for. But NooOOOooo. Now there is nothing that day. Everything is booked solid. The next chance for 3 people to fly (there were 3 of us) to Dallas was the next morning. Fine, we’ll take it. $500 dollars later we are booked on the first flight out the next morning.

Shuttle to a hotel (non-Disney), pizza ordered in, early to bed. And my beautiful wife. The one who said, “for better, for worse”. The mother of our two children. Won’t speak to me. Unless it is gruntable. Ya’ll, that was a very cold night. And not because of the air conditioning.

Next morning, early. We get up and get to the airport. Our tickets are in 3 different places on the plane. Me, wifey, and 4 year old son. 3 different places on the plane. Two of the seats are relatively close to each other. Lisa tells #1S that if he will sit there for just a little bit, Mommy will try to trade with someone. And she does. Trades with someone. ONE. She got ONE seat next to the boy. I was sitting up toward the front. By my self. But that’s somewhat okay. She wasn’t talking to me anyway.

So why is THIS important? Because we tell #1S we are going to Disney again and will be flying down. He is very excited. But in a moment of quiet, with a voice that needed comfort and reassurance, he simply asks, “Are we going to get to sit together on the plane?”


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