I spent way too many hours complaining about and fretting over why our departure time for DFW was at 3:15, yet we had to board the super shuttle at 9:45. It just made no sense to me, especially since we're only 1/2 hour from the airport. It made no sense no matter how many times Rick explained that there were other people the shuttle had to pick up and it might take hours to do that. It made no sense.
Which should have been my first clue.
If things in life don't make sense, and this didn't... uh, something was wrong.
I had even gone so far as to make Rick call the shuttle company back and beg for a later departure. They refused... and said that they knew what they were doing.
And I boarded that shuttle, bags in tow, and family, too... at 9:45. Nearly kicking and screaming, but alas, I went.
To occupy my time (and Lord knows, I figured I'd have plenty once we got to the airport in a measly 1/2 hour) I gave Elizabeth a math problem to work on. To work out. To figure out because, that too, made no sense to me.
"Liz. If our plane leaves at 3:15 and flies for 8 hours. What time will it be in Texas?"
"Very good. Now if it's two hours earlier in California, what time will it be there?"
"Also very good. Now if it's three hours earlier in Hawaii, what time will we be arriving there?"
"I agree. So how come our airline ticket says we'll be there at 3:15?"
That's a clue that should tell you that I never should have pursued accounting.
Somewhere in our short drive to the airport, the shuttle driver asked me what gate we were departing from. That caused me to have to look at my airline ticket once again....
"Gate D 34. And.... oh my gosh!!!!!!! It says our flight leaves at 12:15!!!!!! Driver, STEP ON IT! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"
Thank goodness Rick didn't listen to me when he booked the shuttle. In fact, he had just been sitting there with a smug little look on his face every time I complained that I didn't want to be at the airport six hours ahead of when our plane left. I think he's been enjoying this.
It's also a good thing I didn't drive my car to the airport. I'd have made it in time for the 3:15 flight all right... but I'd have been spending the night in Frisco.
Oh, and yes... we made it. Maui is wonderful. The eight hour flight darn near killed my back, but hey, what a nice place to recover.