Well. That was hairy.
Our youngest son & Co. left Portland PDX right on time last night. I got a text from The Kid, en route to his first-ever flight and first-ever Caribbean cruise, at 20:29 last night: “Boarding in 20 minutes!” (For background, see yesterday’s post, Leaving on a Jet Plane…)
Here’s the short version of how that went:
These pics arrived from New York at 04:24 today. Not that I was waiting up or anything:
Mid-morning today our time (PST), The Kid texted me that they “made it to Florida”:
He’s been keeping me apprised every wing of the way. Just like he said he would.
Even so, there’s just something about entrusting the safety and welfare of your youngest child to total strangers. The folks manning planes loaded with highly flammable fuel. Sleepy TSA agents and possible terrorists. God-only-knows-what crawling around inside plane ventilation systems. Winging his way coast-to-coast on crowded air ways likewise crammed with total strangers in the dead of winter. This keeps mothers on their knees in fervent prayer all across the fruited plain.
Cuz this is My Son we’re taking about! 100% on his own for over a week. Out of country.
Remember what happened to the Harvey family in Captain Ron?
Okay. Let’s not go there. Deep breaths.
Last night, while The Kid was in the middle of his first-ever plane trip from Portland to Florida – with a three-hour layover and connecting flight in New York – went something like:
Lord, please make sure the pilot is sober. Please make sure the co-pilot is alert. Ditto the flight attendants. Baggage handlers. Air traffic controllers. Other passengers. Taxi drivers, hotel and restaurant staff. Cruise director, security people, ship’s captain. NASA. NORAD. The FBI and CIA. The ASPCA and anyone else who crosses my son’s path today and every day.
Call it The Mom Factor.
This was followed by more Mom randomness:
- Is he getting enough to eat?
- Is the hotel secure?
- Did he pack his toothbrush?
- Did all their bags arrive when they did?
- Has he got his passport?
- Are they all together, as in Not. Getting. Lost?
- Is he staying warm? (Oh, wait. He’s in Florida, en route to the Caribbean tomorrow. Belay that.)
- Is he steering clear of malaria-infested swamps and piranha-packed rivers?
- Has he spotted the 14 body guards and 28 ninja warriors I hired to keep tabs on him and run interference (you never know)?
I tossed and turned for most of the night. Until I received his, “Made it to Florida” text this morning.
Then I heard another Voice. That still, small voice of an Old Friend. The Lord gently nudged me with:
“It’s okay. You can go sleep now. I got this.”
To be continued…
Captain Ron photo credit: IMBd.