1. A sugared-up Eldest had two sugared-up pals spend the night Halloween night. What a mistake. They were reprimanded at 2:30 (!) in the morning when Youngest was awakened and found his way to our room.
2. Pete was awakened by them "a few minutes later" according to his sleep-deprived brain. Turned out it was 4:30 (!!!!) in the morning. I'm not sure how many curse words escaped through his lips at that point, but they were quiet after that.
3. Relaying the night's events to me at 7 a.m., I immediately went down to Eldest's new room, opened the door, turned on the light, shouted, "Good morning, you rude people, get the hell up." And I started laundry in the room right next door. Just to be sure there was enough noise to keep them awake.
4. By Sunday afternoon, though, none of that seemed relevant at all.
5. On board Tuesday morning, it was clear I've not been on a US Airways domestic flight in many, many years. From San Francisco to Philadelphia, we had to pay $2 for a can of soda.
6. Forking over $1 for a cup of coffee, is it any surprise that I'd wonder aloud how much that sugar cube was going to set me back?
7. Wah-wah, wah-wah, wah-wah, the airline industry cries about its financial state. Frankly, I don't care. I can't bring a freakin' soda from home and get it through security so my choices are pay $3.69 for a 20-ounce bottle in an airport store passed security or $2 for a 12-ounce can on the plane.
8. Quick. You, devil man illuminated in the green glow of the lavatory in the middle of the night, do the math.
9. But don't forget to factor in the .10 per cube.
10. And, yes, a heavily pierced man had fashioned the few remaining strands of hair not into a comb-over but into two horns. Gave me a hell of a start at 4 a.m. somewhere in the world on the next leg of my never-ending, mind-numbing air trip.
11. My closing wondering this week, a worthwhile addition to my standard 10, written at the end of my flight whatever day that was: It is true that I have never travelled such a distance without my children. But the most glaring difference, one that I have been able to keep from the forefront this long day of travel, is that I will not be making my way to see Ken. Perhaps it's for the best that I've kept the finality at bay this entire time and that I spent the last two days fearing the leaving of my children. The lights have come on the plane, now, and my ears are beginning to pop, and the sun is peeking through as passenger after passenger raises her shade, and there is no pretending for much longer that I will reach his neighborhood, pass his news agent, and squeeze onto his street and greet him.