21 Days for 25 Years - Day 1

It’s travel day!

When I bought the tickets, I had no idea just how perfect a 12 p.m. departure time would be for our family.

Navigating a large family through the airport is definitely a “large family issue” I don’t enjoy, especially security.

I don’t like or approve of the “woo-woo” machine. You know, the one that makes you stand with your feet apart and your hands above your head like you are a criminal waiting to be cuffed?

That woo-woo machine uses ionizing radiation, which may have enough energy to break DNA chains, potentially causing cancer. I travel a lot, so Bill and I have the Global Entry cards that allow you to skip the lines coming back into the country. That card gives you TSA precheck complementary—no woo-woo machine. Just good old-fashioned metal detectors and a security experience that treats you with respect. Walk through the machine, grab your bags, and you’re on your way!

I don’t remove my shoes or anything else from my bag and never put my liquids in a plastic bag. It’s nice, really nice.

Today would be different, and I was in a bit of a panic. My kids know the dangers of the woo-woo machine and know the opt-out pat down has hit a ridiculous level. Four years ago, it was a simple pat down, now it’s a full-body lymphatic massage complete with inappropriate touching, and I don’t give a damn if it’s the same gender using the back of their hands. (It is ironic our government can identify gender when convenient for them)

The thought of grown adults touching my children inappropriately made my Mama Bear come out. And at 3 am, when I awoke early from the stress of this decision, I did what any self-respecting, tough-as-nails Mama Bear would do… I broke down in tears and cried into Bill’s shoulder. 

In my defense, crying cleanses and balances emotions, and it allowed me to remove the stress so I could see clearly what needed to be done.

Bill was so sweet. He just hugged me and let me cry. When the snot and tears began to subside, he said, “Let’s pray.”  We did, and my stress was gone. It was game time, and Mama Bear would get through this.

The rest of the morning was perfect. We all finished packing and pitched in to ensure we left the house clean. Nothing is better than coming home to a spotless house ready for the disheveled masses walking through the door with all of their dirty laundry and travel trinkets.

We arrived at the airport with time to spare. All that was left was to get through security. My plan was to befriend a TSA agent to see if I could get as many of us as possible through the metal detector without a pat-down.

Ha! That plan failed immediately. The agent checking our documents was in a super foul mood, and the whole line knew it. He was literally screaming at people. You could feel the tension as we inched closer to the man, causing so much stress and fear.

It was our turn.

He yelled, “Next, hurry up!” and then he saw me walk up and pleasantly hand him everything he needed. Nope, being helpful was the wrong thing to do. I had children, lots of children…he was pissed he had to be the one to deal with us. He yelled irritatedly, “Which one of you is Malachi?” My ten-year-old is not used to being yelled at like that, and I’m sure he was terrified to admit to this man that he was Malachi, so it took him about five seconds before he whispered, “I am, Sir.” Thankfully, Angry Man decided it was time to yell at all of us at once instead of just signaling him out, “When I call your name, answer me quickly!” Then, turning his attention directly to Malachi, he yelled, “Go!” and pointed for him to leave his family and walk towards the unknown. I intercepted quietly and had Malachi walk towards the unknown but stand behind me out of Angry Man’s view.

For the next five minutes, my entire family tried to smile, say nothing, and comply while he continued his tirade…

“Hurry up!”

“Get over here!”

“Answer faster when I call your name!”

“Go!”

“Go!” with a long finger aggressively pointing towards the entrance was his favorite. He used that one at least nine times, possibly more.

Once we were out of sight of Angry Man, we met the nicest, most kindhearted TSA agent ever. He helped us all easily get through security, and only my oldest three girls (19, 17, and 14) had to go through the woo-woo machine. The rest of us got the TSA Precheck treatment.

Hmmm...do I have time to buy them TSA Precheck before we return home?

The rest of our travel day was perfect. It’s been over four years since any of the children have been on a plane, which means Solly (6) and Hosey (8) had no idea what to expect and couldn’t remember.

Solly was my seatmate on our first flight; his face and comments were so precious to witness.

Gasp, “Mommy! Were flying! I never knew we could be so high!”

Tap, tap, tap to my arm, “Mommy, is the plane hitting bumps in the air?”

After the plane touched down, “Mommy, we landed. Where are we going now?”

The last question was my favorite, and I had a little fun with him, “Keep looking out the window; we need a parking spot, and the pilot needs your help finding one.”

He was on that mission like white on rice. We acquired a parking spot, and now we wait for our final nearly six-hour flight to Maui, Hawaii.

Our final flight departed at 5 p.m. and landed at 7:40 p.m., which was really 10:40 p.m., according to our body's internal clock. That’s a full three hours past Solly’s bedtime, which meant that for over half the flight, that kid was punch drunk. At least he’s a happy drunk.

Normal Solly would have been ecstatic to pick a movie from the comfort of his very own console and go brain-dead for the entire flight. Drunk, tired, Solly picked over a dozen movies and watched only the first 15 minutes of each. He also enjoyed the oh-so-fun-game of never-ending “Mommy, why ____?” questioning and flopping in his seat like a monkey on crack with no bones in his body. Thankfully, the family was directly in front of him, sorry Bekka, and praise the Lord; the seats were empty behind him.

During deplaning, the entire family exited swiftly and expertly…except for Drunk Solly. He managed to slam head-on into every other chair from row 25 to the door and somehow spin in a circle, heading back onto the plane. He was a happy mess, providing lots of giggles for all the non-drunk passengers.

His drunken stupor climaxed at the car rental place. Before Bill and I walked in to get our cars, I asked Abby (19 years old) to watch all the kids and especially keep an eye on Solly and then made a hand motion, “he’s been drinking,” and walked away. When we returned about 40 minutes later, Abby’s eyes were huge, and she exclaimed, “Boy! You weren’t kidding! He spent almost the entire time you were gone climbing to the top of this wall, laying down, and then falling off yelling, ‘Timber!’ and crashing to the ground. He’s crazy!” 

A large family needs two rental cars, and within minutes of loading Drunk Solly into one (of two) of the bright candy apple red Dodge Chargers, he was fast asleep. We asked for full-sized sedans; we were not disappointed. 😀

We arrived at the condo just before 11 pm (2 am, according to our body's internal clocks). Therefore, the three younger children had no idea they were even in Hawaii when they were gently placed into the fold-out couch for sleep, making waking up in the morning the beginning of more Liebich-sized entertainment and adventures…