The Exit

For a month, we had been halfheartedly rummaging through the items that always collect in a large basement. Halfheartedly because Emily didn't have an official start date, and without it you can't make the difficult decisions on which Christmas decorations to keep and which you can live without. Until you have a flight booked. That departure date brings everything into focus. If you've ever taken a long trip, you know there are three levels of pre-trip preparation - ordering something online like a headlamp or a backpack and confidently choosing regular shipping. Then there's the two day priority window, where somehow the shipping is worth more than the item. Then there's just too late - it will never make it here on time, we'll live without it. Once we culled much of what we didn't need, about 7 carloads to goodwill and awkward gifting to friends of various pantry items, we were down to five suitcases, two carry-ons and some residual travel stress. We had never tried to move somewhere on plane, and the process brings up a number of new questions. How many carry-ons can you really take? What are the charges for an extra bag that is also overweight? How much do they charge for an extra, overweight, oversized duffel bag, a guitar, and candles? What if you're carrying lattes onto the plane? Suddenly we were those people with the huge cart, confirmed by the greeting from the attendant at checkin - "Wow, that's a lot of stuff!" Deflating. Overall, it wasn't too bad and the candles passed the explosive screening test. Our reward for braving the travel stress? All the travel luck we've ever had converged on our first flight, the longest leg of the journey and the most stressful. Of all the reasons we thought we were called to the podium, the last that crossed our minds was a random upgrade to business class. Until we were seated and buckled in, we were not to speak of the upgrade for fear that it would be taken away. Evertually, buckles were fastened low and tight, champagne was poured - we were off.