Our flight home left at some horrible hour that my mind has conveniently blocked out from memory. I was nervous about not having enough time to get to the airport and return our rental, especially since we didn't have good directions to the airport. Once on the main freeway, we figured it'd be pretty well marked but at the last second, the signage got really confusing and I was pretty sure that we'd exited too early. Of course we were now in bumper-to-bumper traffic that was barely moving and I knew it would take forever to get on the road that I thought we wanted. For once, I'm happy to say that I was wrong. We were definitely headed in the direction of the airport!
Traffic remained much worse than we'd anticipated so put us a bit behind schedule. It didn't make it any better that, once at the airport, we had no idea which terminal we were supposed to be in. Silly us. We thought it was the norm for airports to post signs directing you to the appropriate terminal based on your airline. We later saw that there were such signs but they were tiny and basically out of sight from passing drivers. We were flying Delta (operated by Air France) so found the rental car drop off location near the Air France sign that we'd finally spotted. We unloaded the car (including the carseat), got Isla all settled in the stroller and went to drop off our keys only for the attendant to tell us that we were in the wrong terminal (apparently there are multiple Air France terminals?) and that it was a long walk so we'd be better off driving.
Arggg! Now we were really starting to cut it close on time! We rushed back to the car, threw everything in (I held Isla in my lap rather than bother with the carseat--tsk tsk) and sped off to the next terminal. We finally got the car taken car of and so we hurried off to ticketing, this time at the Delta counter. One of the airline workers looked at our tickets and directed us to a specific line where we could check in. We waited for a while and finally got to the counter only to have the lady type away silently for awhile, frowning all the while. Not looking good. Before long, she informed us that she couldn't check us in for our flight. Why on earth not!?! We were told we were at the counter for Delta international flights, and ours, apparently, was not considered an international flight since we'd be making a stop first in Amsterdam. Oh, of course. We need to walk all the way around to the opposite side of the terminal to the domestic Air France counter to check in. Good golly! How on earth are even the seasoned travelers to know how to sift through all this so and so operated by so and so flight business!? WHICH DESK DO WE CHECK IN AT if two airlines are listed on your ticket??!
By this time we were all sweating bullets. We RAN around the terminal and finally got the mess all sorted out and our baggage checked. We even had enough time to grab a chocolate croissant and a cafe au lait and espresso before boarding our flight. We made the quick hop over to Amsterdam, then boarded our flight to Seattle. The rest is all a blur, which must mean it was horrible and I am blocking it out. Or maybe it was completely uneventful since I don't remember any of it. I'm pretty sure Isla did fairly well on the flight home, but I guess I'll never be sure.
All in all, we had an incredible and memorable trip. Spending 3 straight weeks traveling with my best friend and baby girl? I would do it again in a heartbeat! We couldn't have chosen a better age to travel with Isla--she was such a star! Sometimes I look back on this whole thing and think "Were we nuts!?" I think not.
So, thanks Uncle Sam! I'd say that was a tax return well spent!
The end. Au revoir.
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