"But the Suitcases Are Still in the Car?"

Back in April, Meredith wrote a post about how traveling seems to be a really hard time to lean in.  In all fairness, she also had several travel posts where she let her Jack maintain his leadership, and there was peace in his valley.  Not perfect, but pretty damn good, Mere!



I guess the same could be said about me on our recent travels.  I stopped myself from interrupting many times but then mowed right over Sam at dinner one night.  I do like it when the nice Garmin lady gives my husband the driving directions instead of me.  I seem to stay out of trouble more often in the car.  You can't spank the Garmin lady, but Sam does tell her to "shut up" once in a while.  There was one big lapse in car judgement that I will explain later in this post.

Really tried to remember to wait for Sam to open the car door, give the waitress my drink order (house IPA most of the time) and not to speed up so I was walking 10 feet in front of him.


Things were going fairly well until the last day - our travel day back home.  Then it all went to hell in a handbasket.  I could tell I was metaphorically stepping on Sam's toes again and again but seemed powerless to to stop myself.  If there is a fallen angel of ttwd, I was under her control.

It was a long, long day, that's for sure.  As we pulled up in the driveway, I thought the only thing on both our minds was, "Home, sweet home."  I knew there would be loads of laundry the next morning, but for now, I was just looking forward to my own bed.


As we got out of the car, I grabbed as many small items as I could carry, knowing that Sam would take care of the heavy  baggage.  He opened the door for me, and I dropped the things in my arms on the dining room table and reached for the stack of mail.  I thought Sam was heading back out for the suitcases, but then I heard the front door close and the distinctive sound as the lock was thrown.

"Hmmm," I thought.  "That's odd.  Why wouldn't he be getting the luggage.  Besides, it was quite warm.  The screen door would be just fine tonight." 

Without a word spoken, Sam reappeared and reached for my hand.

"But the suitcases are still in the car, Sam?"

"And that's where they will be until I am finished," he said as he towed me down the hall.


He never let go of me as he bent to retrieve the little wooden paddle from the bottom drawer of his dresser.  (In happier times, I refer to that drawer as the "toy box.")  He set the paddle on the foot of the bed and deftly unzipped my jeans.  Then silent still, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me over one knee.  Took his time arranging me and finally put his other leg over both of mine.  I already felt totally pinned, and he hadn't said one word.  I think I stopped breathing for a minute.


When the dam broke, Sam had much to say.  The paddle worked its deadly magic as my guy started to recall every single stupid thing I said or did beginning when I woke up about 5:00 am that morning.


"You have been second guessing me all day long, Ella.  The only rest I had was when you had to pee."


"This wasn't going to be good," I thought as Sam began listing my misdemeanors.  Perhaps some went a bit beyond misdemeanor more toward felony.  You be the judge.
  

• "I think you should go get the big luggage cart, Sam."

• "Wait!  The Garmin has to be wrong.  We need to go this way to the car rental return."  He ignored me and pulled onto the ramp to the garage.  I hate that the Garmin Bitch is always right!  I think I heard her say, "So there, Ella," as Sam turned off the engine.

• I was sure I knew which side of the building we had to go to catch the shuttle to the terminal.  Sam just stood there until I realized he wasn't following me.

• This next one was when I noticed Sam raised his voice.  Arriving in San Diego for a long layover, I began.  "Well, we have to get to Terminal 1 to find the restaurant we found online....What a stupid airport.... Why do we have to leave the secure area just to eat and then have to go through security again?....It makes no sense....No matter.......We have TSA Pre-Check."

 

But then the TSA officer said that Pre-Check was not being accepted at this time and to take off shoes and belts.  Pull out electronics and clear bags of toiletries.  I kid you not, I just stood there repeating, "But we have Pre-Check on our boarding passes.  But we have....." 

"Ella, you are holding up the line.  Take - Out - The - Laptop - Now," he growled.  I finally did.

• Guess who asked for the check when we finished eating.  "Oh, sorry, Hon."

• I really didn't remember any indiscretions on the final leg of our journey, but Sam did.  (By this time the paddle was quite busy on my bum, and I couldn't really think straight.)

• Sam was just about to pull the Park & Fly card out of his wallet in order to tell the driver where we were parked, when I piped up helpfully, "It was Row C, I'm pretty sure.  Yep, I was right."  Sam was silent.

And so this post has come full circle.  We were finally home.  The suitcases were still in the car.  My ass was properly toasted, and I felt like I had just received the Nobel Prize in Literature for writing 

                           The TTWD Book of What Not To Do.

But then Sam pulled me up for kisses and gently pinched my nipple.  There was a grin on his face, too, and I knew for certain there would be a happy ending to this story.