Nora & Her Family
in the Caymans
Another beautiful morning, but we have to take our gang
to the airport. BW drops us off to go exchange the van for
the convertible we've booked for our solo run here. I go to
get everyone checked in. No delays on this first leg, it
seems. I can't go through Immigration to the gate with them,
so sit everyone down to pass out tickets and run through the
steps they'll take when they go through Customs and change
planes in Atlanta. That's when I see the clerk only gave me
one boarding pass for the second leg of the flight.
I go back, tell him. He tells me he can only issue one
boarding pass for the Dulles leg from there. I've never
heard this one before. I press. He claims Atlanta deals with
that portion. Why one boarding pass out of four? I wonder,
but this is not explained.
This makes me nervous, but I'm stuck. Go back, explain
everything. There should be an electric cart, which I've
ordered here, waiting at the Atlanta arrival gate. After
Customs, they should hop on this, go directly to their
departure gate and check in to get the remaining boarding
passes. They are to stick together like a dirt clod.
We all say our goodbyes, and I watch them until they're
through Immigration and out of sight.
BW hasn't returned, so I walk over to the car rental
section. He's not there. Walk back. There he is! We've
passed each other somehow. And somehow the Mustang
convertible we've book has become a Ford Taurus. This will
not do. LOL. Go back, check at another rental place and they
come up with a Chevy convertible. Make the exchange.
As we have to pass through George Town, and there are no
cruise ships in port today, we stop for a little shopping.
BW buys me a Daum dragon. He's a gorgeous amber shade. Pick
up a few Christmas presents.
It's steaming hot today, and we head back to the hotel,
the bar, the pool. I feel sad when I pass the doors to Dan's
and Stacie's and my mother's rooms. The minibar guy is in
Dan's room. Dan left four beers purchased outside the hotel
in there. BW goes in and rescues them. <g>
Three boys in the pool today, with snorkeling gear. New
arrivals. Hyper new arrivals. The shouting and splashing
doesn't bother me--for the first 30 minutes. Dad is at the
swim-up bar, oblivious to their solid wall of screaming as
they war in the pool. I got hostages!!!! (Mouth-sounds of
automatic gun fire.) Over here, over here!! (Screams of pain
and agony as someone takes a hit.) And so on.
I had two boys myself, so I'm pretty tolerant of this.
But it doesn't slow down, so after nearly an hour, I switch
with BW to the beach. Another new family there. Dad, Mom,
older boy and girl. Dad turns around to speak to Mom and I
see he's wearing a very snug, very brief suit. And is giving
everyone entirely too much information. I do my best not to
look.
Take a dip in the sea. Suddenly a woman give a little
shriek and darts toward shore. I hear cello music, come up
fast in the shallows. She's laughing now, red-faced,
pointing. A school of little fish had swum around her legs,
spooking her. She doesn't like fish. I relax again, float
around, then look through the glass-clear water. This is a
very big school. An enormous graduating class. There must be
thousands of these little fish swimming in a huge circle. I
bring my legs up, as I don't much care to become intimate
with them either.
As the young boys are still battling in the main pool, BW
and I take one more dip in the lap pool. I head up, have a
long shower then stretch out on the terrace with my book
until sunset.
We decide to walk across the street to this restaurant
with an open air bar made out of an old red bus. It's very
clever, and the food must be good as there are people in
there every night.
The food IS good.
Back home as I've asked Stacie to call me when they land
in Dulles. Don't want to miss the call. Message light is
blinking. I check my watch. It's still 30 minutes before
they're scheduled to land.
Message is from our Stacie though. Stuck in Atlanta,
waiting for crew. I can't count the number of times I've
been stuck in Atlanta waiting for crew, or stuck somewhere
else because there's no crew in Atlanta. What's up with
this? Why is it crew are always vanishing in Atlanta? It's
like the Bermuda Triangle for airline pilots.
She says she's call ahead to tell the car service they've
been delayed. Good thinking. But I have a second message
from my house sitter. Car service has called, and in
checking on the flight was told by Delta that they have the
wrong flight number. Number 2010 from Atlanta went to Dallas
that afternoon, not Dulles this evening. Please advise.
I get out the itinerary and our tickets as we have the
same flight next week. It is indeed Delta 2010 from Atlanta
to Dulles. I call car service. Same story. Delta told him he
has the wrong flight number. I tell him this is the one they
gave me. It's right here on my ticket, and the printed
itinerary. Not to worry, he assures me, he has the two cars
at the airport, waiting. There's another flight from Atlanta
coming in, and they should be on it. He's instructed his
drivers to check on all flights from Atlanta.
Finally, someone who knows how to do his job. I thank him
lavishly.
An hour and a half after their scheduled arrival time,
Dan calls. They made it through. Everyone's fine, and headed
home. Drivers were waiting. No one at Delta mentioned a
change of flight number to him. No one mentioned it to me
either, come to think, when I checked their luggage all the
way through from Cayman to Dulles.
Will work on this mystery later.
Nora
Nora's Cayman
reports are ©
2001 by Nora Roberts & ADWOFF
All Rights
Reserved
