Not that that wasn't great fun. The colors for the terminals! The helpful, well-informed airport staff who all came up with such creative answers when we searched in a panic for Continental! Terminal 4? Terminal 7?Terminal 5? How do we get to Terminal 5? We have to go around? Not this Terminal? No Continental? Continental at La Guardia? Continental is actually Virgin American? Continental doesn't exist? Those winding lanes, those lit up signs! Oh, Continental is owned by United Airlines? It's United? Terminal 7? Terminal 7! Lauren, oh thank god!
This time, we won't have Michael to call as backup, and we can't walk in thinking Lauren's iphone will tip the scales. All we'll have is early morning silver and each other: Lauren in the backseat, Dad driving, me directing. Lauren will be asleep, Dad will be lost, I won't be lost, so help me god. I know the success of Erica's pickup will be resting on my shoulders, and I am ready. We are leaving in four minutes and I am ready. Dad repeats, we are leaving in four minutes, and I am ready. This is when it matters.