1. We arrived in perfect time, like geniuses. Wrote down our parking row and shuttle stop. Waited 90 seconds for the bus. Got on with our heavy and not so heavy bags (I'll let you guess whose is heaviest) (hint: someone is bring twelve shirts to Scotland). Arrived at the terminal. Navigated the kiosk like champs. Gave our heavy and not so heavy bags to the Delta folks, who were the soul of helpfulness and politeness.
2. TSA Precheck. America!
3. Having slid through security like the upright citizens we are, we sauntered on down to our gate. Fancy airport salad (me), yogurt and bagel (the historian). All is well.
4. WHOOOPS. Key medication in a checked bag!
5. The historian asks the attendants at the gate: can we retrieve my bag so I can get my meds? Can we? Will we?
6. Hemming, hawing, a little bit of we really can't that gives way to I'll see if we can to Yes, and now you must go back to the baggage claim, get your bags, then recheck, then go through security again.
7. Airport salad! I hardly knew ye! (really, there was only lettuce and big black useless olives and a lemon wedge left.)
8. And we ran, we ran so far away....to the baggage claim, where our bags were waiting as promised.
9. Medication: retrieved. Bags: rechecked.
10. TSA Precheck. America, America!
11. And we are again at the gate.
Terry at the Delta Terminal, Gate D2, for the flight to Paris at 16:59 on August 3: you helped us a lot today! Thank you!