The Best “Worst” Move Ever

 This was by far, the worst move of all time.  The only saving grace was that everyone we had to deal with was just so nice.  And here we go…

 I should preface this with the fact that I did not want to make this move.  Really, did not want to make this move.  So when my children cry to me and ask me why I am making them move, it takes the bigger, mature person in me not to yell at them, “Go ask your father!  He’s the one making us go!  It’s not me- cry to him!”  But I don’t yell that at them, I don’t even whisper it so Ben can’t hear.  But I sure do think it. 

The movers tell me they are going to arrive somewhere between 9-9:30, which we all know is a lie.  Movers are NEVER on time, so I plan for them to arrive around 11- really giving them a good window.   Low expectations are the way to go, life has taught me.  So, at 9am when I get a call from Erlin/Caesar telling me they will be there, barring minimal traffic of course, within 20 minutes, I’m a little surprised.  Sure enough, 9:45 rolls around and they are.  Smiling.  Happy.  Ready to go.  Really, the nicest men I’ve ever met in a group before in my life.  Living in New York City the past five years certainly helps their gentlemanness.  But I feel good- they are so nice, they call me ma’am (which I don’t like), ask to use my bathroom, joke with my kids, and they work hard.  They work fast. 

I did notice, however, that there is only one moving pod outside, instead of the four I ordered.  It’s because, they inform me, they have to load up one pod, return it, then get the next.  This process between the first and second pod takes about an hour and a half.  Between the second and the third it takes 2 hours.  This is going to be a long day.

Around 7 o’clock, the third pod arrives.  Seriously?  They were supposed to be done by 3.  It’s 7.  We are supposed to be having friends over, having our final good bye.  I’d spent the day crying- saying goodbye to Felicia and her kids, saying goodbye to little Sammy who I had seen at least once a week after school for three years and who had been in the same class as Gabriela Catalina for three years (just like Gabriel).  I’d said goodbye to everyone but our class.  At some point, I just wanted it to be over and to be done saying goodbye.  To be done anticipating the soon to be crater in my heart.  I remember what it was like when Betsy left.  It was not a feeling I yearned to repeat. 

At 9 o’clock, one of the “Mr. Cheery”s came in looking too dismal.  “I’m so sorry ma’am, but there’s a little bit of an issue.”  Please don’t call me ma’am. “Okay… um… Ms. Lady? There’s a bit of an issue.”  Ms. Lady either- just call me Kiki.  “Okay, Christina?”  Fine, I’ll take it.  “The office is closed and someone didn’t pass the message along that you are supposed to be getting another pod and they are telling me that you can’t have another one because there isn’t one for you.”  I thought you said that everyone knew we were getting four pods and that if we even needed a fifth, we could have it?  “Yes ma’am.  We saw your pods with your name on it this morning- there were four.  But now they are telling me they aren’t there.  And that we can’t have them.  So, we aren’t going to leave you.  We’ve found a solution to your problem.  We will move everything back upstairs into your apartment and then tomorrow morning we will come back, first thing and fill the pods.  You have my word.”

I started crying.  Again.  How the hell do I still even have water enough to come pouring out of my eyes?  I told him, “First, I appreciate with all that I am that you are not just leaving me.  Because if you were ANY other movers, you would and you know it.  But this is not going to work.  We are leaving at 4 am for a flight.”

A very, very long story short…. They ended up bringing a ten foot truck to put everything back in and in the morning, they were going to transfer everything to two other pods at the holding dock in Chelsea.  Of course, not everything fit, so we had to leave things behind.  Like our television.  Like our tray tables, our vacuum cleaner, a box spring… and my rowing machine I won on the price is right (tear).

Those movers left at 12:45am.  12:45!!!  They were supposed to be done by 2.  One of the guys was supposed to pick up his daughter from school that afternoon but had to get a babysitter.  That guy didn’t make a dime that day.  You know how much money those guys made that day?  $45 a pod, each.  $135 for the DAY; for 15 hours of work.  At the beginning of the day, when we saw how hard they were working, we decided to give them each a $50 tip.  $50 for a four hour move is pretty sweet- on top of $180.  $50 on top of $135 for 15 hours of work is crap.  It was so awful.  I was so excited to be able to give each of the four of them $50 at 2pm, but at 12:45 am, it was embarrassing.

Back to my prize possession.  Luckily, Poppy (my neighbor) promised me should would hold on to the rowing machine until I begrudgingly sold it (which I did within three hours of posting it). 

I walked up to our apartment, looked around and smiled at the good times we had in there.  My cousin Deanna painting the entire apartment with me while pregnant (we are creatures of habit!!), Megan scrubbing the filth from my cabinets, family dinners almost once a month, the birthday parties, Gabriela Catalina learning how to walk, bringing Colton home from the hospital… the many, many things. 

By the time we got up to Chris and Tiffany’s apartment and settled in a chair for a glass of champagne to toast the first five years of beautiful friendships, it was 2:30am.  We were going to be up in an hour and a half for a day of traveling.   We were emotionally and physically exhausted. 

When Ben went to check in for our flight, we saw that it was cancelled.  At that point, all I could do was laugh.  Seriously?  What ELSE could go wrong??

We got rebooked from our 6:30am flight for a 2:30pm flight, and as a courtesy, got sat in Economy Plus seating- not all together, but close enough and in two’s.  Fine, we’ll take it.  With a last look at our home for the past five years, the home I'd spent the most time in since I moved out of my house when I was 18, we closed a chapter in our lives.

We get to the airport and go to check in.  They lady charges us for our bags.  I politely tell her our bags our free because of our status.  “I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ve already charged you.  You can get refunded later.”  I’m so sorry, but can you please try again?  I really don’t want to have to deal with this later.  We are moving today and I’m exhausted and overwhelmed.

Most people would have said no- not this lady.  With a smile on her face, she reworked everything and got it all fixed.  We were not allowed to check in either of our two strollers there (you know, the extra one we had to take with us because it wouldn’t fit in the moving truck), but that also ended up being fine.  Each kid and Chata had their own seat in the stroller; it was a blessing in disguise.

At the ticket counter at the gate, I get our strollers tagged.  I ask them to please only tag them to Houston because if they tag them to Austin, the strollers won’t come off in Houston and we will be screwed.  She promised me they would come off in Houston and that we would have them to get our many loads of crap to the next plane.  I beg her not to check them to Austin.  She promises me it will arrive in Houston and won’t I please let her help me in order to save me time in the next airport?  I agree, even though I know better.

We get to the gate, they scan our boarding passes.  We are hot, we are tired, but we are okay.  We are almost there. We are half way down the runway, waiting, sweating a little bit more.  There’s no air conditioning in the tunnel. Ben looks at our tickets and slips a silent explicative.  One of us is in row 12, one in row 15, one in 23 and one in 34.

You’ve. Got. To be.  KIDDING ME!!!!

I tell them to stay there- I do not care that we are halfway down the jet way.  I do not care that it is full.  I do not care that they are an adult, two children, a dog and eight carry-ons.  I simply do not care.  Anyone else who did NOT spend 15 hours moving the day prior and only one hour of sleep last night is MORE than welcome to go around.

I ask the lady at the scanner if there is anything we can do.  “I’m so sorry ma’am, it’s a full flight.  There’s nothing I can do.”

I want to cry, I really do.  Instead I just say, “I’m really sorry ma’am, but I have a three year old and a five year old.  Our original flight, where we were all sat together, was cancelled.  We are moving today.  I am making a move I don’t want to make.  I am tired.  I am literally dripping in sweat.  I am completely overwhelmed.  With all due respect, we are not sitting apart.”  She sent me to some other lady to whom I gave the same speech.

With the happiest little face, she says, “No problem.  Lucky for you, an entire family didn’t show up, but they are two together in one row and two together in next.  They are middle and window, it’s the best I can do.”  You’ve got to be kidding me, I think.  “Okay, that sounds great, thank you so much.”

Ben is calling me because Gabriela Catalina is about to pee her pants (did I mention Colton has been sleeping since we got in the taxi???).  I get down to where they are and he takes her onto the plane to go.  I look around and think what to do in terms of breaking things down.  I don’t even know where to start.

A flight attendant comes out to me and asks me how she can help.  I tell her, “Honest to God, I just don’t know. I’m so overwhelmed I don’t even know where to begin.”  She tells me, “Well, I’ll just stand here then, at your service, until you decide and then you just tell me what to do.”  I ask her if she’ll hold Colton.  And she does, and he wakes up and starts to cry, and do you know that woman not only got him to stop crying but got that kid to laugh?  Do you have ANY idea how impossible that is for anyone else besides his mother to do for him?  She was amazing.  I break everything down and Ben and Gabs come off the plane to finish helping.  The entire plane is waiting.  I’m sweating.  In a two layer gray tank top.  This can’t be good.  Literally, sweat dripping from my eyebrows into my eyes.  I don’t have time to focus on this, I know the stares that await us and I’m not in the mood.  But still, I’m smiling, the kids get their luggage, Ben gets the bags, I put a backpack on my back and grab Chata in her carryon see through transporter.  I brace myself for the dirty looks. 

But instead, we are met with “oohs and aaaahs.”  Note to parents: always dress your kids in cute clothes with their hair done when you get on planes.  Passengers love it.  The furry dog helped.  We were met with, “oh my gosh how darling!!” and “oh and look at this little boy’s spikey hair!  So cute! Where you going sweet heart?” and “oooh, look at your puppy!!  You’ve got the whole family!  Big day?” and loads of smiles.  It’s going to be okay.  I feel the knot in my chest loosen even though the hole in my heart gapens.  We are actually about to leave.  I’m just so sad.

We get to the end, of course all the overhead bins are full.  But don’t despair!  The lovely flight attendant finagles everything and magically room appears.  I start to get settled in the back but Gabriela Catalina and Colton start crying because they can’t sit together.  This is kind of the last straw for me.  I’m really about to lose it emotionally.  And all of the sudden, all the men in our section get up and say, “how about you sit where is best for your family and we will all adjust. Would that work for you?”  Are you kidding me? Seriously??? I have never been so grateful in my life.  So we sit: Colton, Gabriela Catalina and I in one row, Ben in the middle seat behind us.  We are settled. 

And then they both need to go to the bathroom.  Sigh.  So, up we go, the three of us and we squish into the airplane bathroom.  It can be done and without anyone touching the toilet.  I am amazing.

We come out, like a clown car, and the flight attendant hands me a glass of water for the dog because it’s so hot.  Oh, and by the way, I saw myself in the mirror in the bathroom.  Hot mess doesn’t even begin to cover it.  My shirt is soaked through- sweat marks galore.  My hair is a disaster.  My face is in a permanent state of trying not to cry.  I feel bad for all the people who have to look at me.  Their lives have been shortened by the view of this disgustingness. 

We sit in our seats and wait…and wait…and wait…until the captain bellows overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking.  We uuuuuuuhhhhhhh are having some maintenance issues.  The uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh air conditioning is out on one side of the plane? And uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh we are just waiting on maintenance to see if they are going to be able to fix it or if uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh we are going to have to switch planes.”

I put my stinky head between my hands and start to laugh.  Deliriously laugh.  What else.  Could POSSIBLY GO WRONG TODAY??? Of COURSE we are going to have to switch planes.  Of bloody course we are.  But I sit there, and I smile, and I try not to lose my crap because honest to God, how I am holding it together after not sleeping the night before, after moving for 15 hours and leaving a city I DON’T want to leave and after packing over 100 boxes By MYSELF (did I mention my darlings were up at 6 and that I went to bed at 5 trying to figure out our flights?  Did I mention that?  Did I?  DID I?!?!) is beyond me.  You’re going to have to commit me soon, I swear.  But I gather my ladyness and get it together.  And I smile.  "Smile until you mean it" has worked for me thus far today, so by God I'm sticking to it.

Captain comes back on, “Apparently as long as we fly at a lower altitude, we don’t need another air conditioner, so we are good to go.”  Yup, we are going to die.  “No air conditioner” means something else is going to break and we are going to die.  I just know it.  Thanks a lot Ben for making us move.  Love you honey.  Loooooooveyousomuch. 

The flight attendant comes by to point out the obvious, “Girlfriend, you’re gonna need a cocktail.”  “I sure am!  I’ll take whatever you got.”  My drinks were on the house the whole flight.  Even better?  Colton watched the iPad the entire time (thank you Jesus for being born in this century with this technology!) and the rest of us slept the entire flight (except for the drinks of course).

You would think at this point, the story ends and our day gets better.  But you would be wrong.

We get off the plane.  Do our strollers come?  They sure don’t.  Just, like I knew they wouldn’t.  So here we are… two kids, a dog and nine thousand pounds of crap we gotta carry for a half a mile through the airport.  Sigh.  Here we go. 

We decide to use our once a year passes and go into the presidents club where, honestly, let’s be real for a second, Ben and I throw back like five drinks in twenty minutes.  I don’t care.  I really don’t.  I’m tired, I smell, I’m over it, I want to go home, my kids are crying they want to go home, I WANT to cry that I want to go home.  If it were legal to get my kids shots at this point, I’d consider it. No, I wouldn’t consider it.  I’d DO it.  Chata would get one, too.

We leave the super suite and I feel badly for Chata.  She’s been in that duffle bag for like 8 hours and I saw other passengers letting their pups walk in the airport so we let her out on her leash.  My Lord you would think she’d been in there for a month.  She’s just trotting along and we are making excellent time walking to our next gate (did I mention we had a gate change? Oh, oops, my bad, there was that, too).  We are walking next to a restaurant where there are tables outside of it and there is a man eating something delicious. 

Chata pauses and I know what’s coming. “Chata, NO!!”  But it’s too late.  She arches.  She squats.  And she craps.  Right in the middle of the airport.  Right next to this lovely gentlemen who WAS enjoying his meal.  I am mortified.  I yank my kids in front of her to hide my shame (I am so embarrassed, I feel like “I” am the one who “shipped my pants” if you will, in the airport) and within two seconds the dirtiness is bagged and floor is wiped with a child’s butt wipe and she is SHOVED back into her bag.  No more walking for you!!!!

All of the sudden we hear, “this is the last and final boarding call for flight (whatever # we were).  If you are on this flight please proceed to the gate immediately.” AGGHHH!  So we are running- running!! Down the airport.  So help me God if we miss this flight, I will hurt someone, I swear.

We make it and get down the jet way when Ben notices the same thing.  We are all over this plane.  Seriously???  I am five seconds from ripping my face on a cheese grater. 

I rush back up to the front and before the woman even opens her mouth I give her my speech- she says, I’m so sorry, it’s a full flight.  Maybe someone will switch with you?  At least you are two and two.”  Yeah, two and two like ten rows apart.  Do you KNOW how loud that other child is going to scream for me?  Do you have any idea?  No?  Oh you will lady.  You will.  Because you will hear him, from the air, back down on earth, I promise.  This was an inner dialogue by the way.  I don’t usually say these things out loud.  Well, sometimes, but not this time.

“No big deal, I understand.  Thanks so much for your help.”  We get on the plane, get all our stuff on, we are seated, I am not pleased, but we are almost done.  Almost.  And the flight attendant comes back and says, “we have four seats available in economy plus.  Would you like to move?” Heck yes thank you very much.  And allll the people were annoyed.  Because they were waiting for us and here they are… waiting for us again.  Even the girl in my same row, who by the way had the seat in between us empty, gave me a healthy scowl.  She looked like she could smell me.  Who couldn’t really, by that point?  Did I care? Nope. But I sure tried to pretend to.  “Hi there.  Just gonna put my stuff in this middle seat for a second and then it’s all yours for the whole flight.”  Nasty glare girl says, “It’s not my seat.  Not like I claimed it... just wondering if we are ever going to take off.”  I smile at her and apologize, “you look like you were enjoying it and I don’t need it. It’s all yours.  Oh, and I’m so sorry you can smell me from there.  I haven’t showered in like three days and we just moved today.  It’s been a long day.”  She didn’t care, but I was amused- which, to be honest, was kind of the point.  “Oh, and yeah, I’m sure we will leave just as soon as my family is situated.” Big smile from me.  Bigger when I see you’re even more pissed.  I’ll take the little things.  I was honestly trying to be nice but if you want to be nasty, I’ll take pleasure in in it.

This flight is over in 20 minutes and we are all done.  We’ve had our day and we are ready to go.  I’m tired, THINKING about how we are going to get all that crap out to the side of the curb where Ben’s parents will be waiting when… what?  Are you..? Oh thank you Jesus.  I see flailing arms and hear screaming shrieks of joy.  We have been saved.  Ben’s parents are NOT waiting in the car.  They are, in fact, waiting just on the other side on the “you may not go back past this point line,” ready to take my children and all our bags.

Ahhhh…. Freedom.