I started the day by ducking my head in to say hello to Kimba, her husband, Feeky and our new grandson, Giddy.
I then grabbed a quick bite as I hit the road to pick my wife up at the Denver airport.
Her plane was supposed to arrive at 10:30. I got on the freeway at 9:30 and arrived right on time. She texted me that she had landed and was heading to baggage claim.
I took my time and looped around again. I didn’t see her so I pulled as far forward as I could and parked at the curb for the arriving passengers. After about 10 minutes, I could see the airport police walking toward my car, so I headed out to loop around again.
As I pulled in to the pickup area, I drove as slowly as I could. Again, no sight of Bunch. I did my parking trick a second time and texted her…no response.
At about the 10 minute mark, I saw the policeman heading my way again. Back out and around the loop again and back in to my personal parking spot.
After watching what seemed like half of the state come out and leave, I sent another text.
I called…no answer.
As I was looping around for the fourth time, she called me and said that she had her luggage and was standing outside in the sun.
At the Denver International Airport, there are only two ways you can go. One road, which I had taken the three previous times, was down into the bottom of the parking structure to pick up the arrivals. The other road takes you up to the top level for the Departures. You can see the sky from the top level. That is where the sun usually resides.
I was smiling in anticipation as I drove up the ramp. I brought the car to a stop right under the Southwest sign and waited…and waited…and waited!
My phone rang…
“Lord, where are you?”
“I am sitting right underneath the Southwest sign! Where are you?”
“I’m standing outside in the sun waiting for you!”
“Honey, I am on the top floor. I can see the sun. I can’t see you. Where are you?”
Eventually, we figured out that there is another level that is specifically for buses and taxis that the general driving public cannot access. However, if you are not familiar with the airport, the signs from the baggage claim direct the passengers to that level! Whoever designed this airport ought to pay reparations to people of Colorado!
“A policeman is coming. I’m going to have to go around again! Go up to the top level…the Departures level.”
After an hour and five trips around the airport loop, I finally got to kiss my wife!
On the way back to the hotel, I called ABF. I gave them my card number and paid the bill.
I told them that I was on the road heading back to Fort Collins. We agreed to meet at the storage facility at 12:30 so they could drop the trailer off.
The manager of the storage facility was already talking to the driver when we pulled up. It turns out that they already knew each other pretty well. The manager then told the driver exactly where he wanted the trailer parked. He pulled in, backed up to our storage unit and, after the manager approved his location, unhooked it.
By now, it was 1:30 and my wife was eager to get to the hotel to see her grandson. Since I was still pretty tired from the last three days, I didn’t put up much of a fight.