I can't believe I've already gone back to the airport here in England. No we didn't give up on staying; we've brought in reinforcements!
One of Angie's cousins has come to stay with us for a month so she can experience living abroad and help out as we transition into a regular house. She's pretty excited but also very sleepy (she had a much more direct trip than we did but the time difference is still a killer). As I write, everyone else has gone to bed.
This morning, I woke up early to shower and eat breakfast before the early morning departure for the airport (it's about 90 minutes away and her flight came in around 7:45 a.m.). Since we are sharing a room, Jacob woke up and saw me getting ready. I told him he could sleep and I would be back later. As I was eating breakfast, Jacob came out and said he wanted to come to the airport to pick up our cousin. He was so sweet, I couldn't resist. It seemed like a bad idea to bring him along for a 1.5 hour drive each way, but I agreed.
Jacob, for his part, brought along his firetruck. He was really great in the car. He played with the truck. He sang songs to me or himself. He looked out the window pensively and asked questions. He would even make "vrrrmmmm" sounds as we passed large trucks on the highway. He was a surprisingly pleasant rider.
The unpleasant surprise of the trip was getting to the airport and not knowing which terminal was right. American airports always, in my experience, have billboards that list which airlines operate out of which terminals. Not so for the Manchester airport. I knew the cousin's airline and flight number, but not which terminal. I guessed Terminal One. When we parked, I phoned a friend and had my wife check online. She had just gone for a walk with Lucy, so they would call back in a few minutes. Jacob and I decided to go into the terminal in case we had guessed right. WRONG! Her plane arrived at Terminal Three, which we saw on a display just as my wife called back. We got back in the car and headed off to the other terminal.
Strangely enough, Terminal Three is right next to Terminal One. I'm not sure where they put Terminal Two, but it's not in the most obvious spot. I guess it's lost in a SEP field. Jacob and I also had a little trouble finding the right parking lot for Terminal Three. We eventually found a good spot. Jacob was excited to see the airport. No people moving sidewalks were there, but that was okay with Jacob. He enjoyed the lights and the shops. We found our cousin pretty quickly and beat a hasty retreat.
Jacob did not want to go potty at the airport and did manage to hold it in till we returned home, singing and "vrrrmmm"ing the whole way. Our cousin managed to stay awake for quite a long while, so hopefully she will conquer jet lag quickly. And we will definitely be prepared for our next guest by pre-identifying the arrival terminal.
Cry Room Chronicles LXIX
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