The Terminal: Part 2

So Mom and I decide to venture out into airport traffic and move our car to the Extended time (cheap) parking lot. We make it to the entrance of the Blue Lot by crossing four lanes of traffic.  As I hand the parking ticket to Mom I tell her to put it someplace safe, and not to lose it (that's important for later.)

Everyone knows that most parking garages have seven feet of clearance between the ceiling and the roof of the car.  Everyone also knows that most cars, unless they have giant tires or something, are shorter than that.  I found myself hunching my shoulders inside my car to avoid hitting my head anyway.  When I realized this, I straightened up and looked over at my mother to see if she noticed what I was doing.  She was crouching even lower than me, and she had her hands over her eyes like she was shielding her glasses from falling dust or something.  I laughed hysterically. 
 
I parked in the first available parking space on level 2, because we were running out of time and we didn't want to miss Mom's friends.  Then we walked across the whole structure to the other terminal. 
 
Compared to the first terminal, this terminal is straight out of the 70's, yet it still has room for a Starbucks.  We make it with ten minutes to spare, so we go to where Delta passengers pick up their baggage, and we wait...and wait...and wait.  We watched almost every piece of baggage was claimed by someone, and none of those people are the ones we're looking for.  Luckily, there's a help desk nearby, so we ask. 
 
It turns out, they were not on the 3:48 flight from Cincinnati, and the lady at the help desk was not allowed to tell us what flight they were on.  Frustration!  Again, the lady asks if we have a cell phone, which we don't.  Then she says the next flight arrives at 4:54 and suggested that they might be on that flight.  Mom and I left the desk, dejectedly, knowing that we had to pick them up and we couldn't go home and wait for a call in an hour when it takes two hours to drive home.  So we wait some more, and while we're waiting we get some over-priced beverages from Starbucks. 
 
Time passes, and we make our way to where the baggage is picked up.  They're not there.  Okay...now what?  We go back to the help desk, and although the lady can't give us information about what flight they might be on, she does tell us that the next flight arrives from Cincinnati at 6:30.  Great. 
 
Then a light bulb flashes over Mom's head.  Let's check our voicemail!  We both feel like idiots as I'm dialing our phone number.  Eureka!  A message!  It's from Tito Gorge's niece, and she says they're on the 6:30 flight!  Then she gives us her number in New York, in case we need to call her. 
 
Well, it's a little after five o'clock, and we have to wait until 6:30.  No problem.  Mom decides it's a good idea to move our car closer, so we walk all the way back to the Green Dragon and drive around looking for a better parking space.  No such luck.  The best I could do was to find a parking space on the third level, instead of the second, which is the same level as the breezeway from the parking garage to the terminal.   There's forty-five minutes well spent.   Now what? 
 
Then we went shopping in the airport shops.  Everything is expensive.  Gum costs two dollars.  If I ever need some Detroit Lions/Pistons/Tigers/Red Wings paraphenalia though,  I know where to go.    We couldn't have dinner, because we were going to go out with Mom's friends, so we ate some Cheetos, gum, and fountain pop.  Then we hung around for a while and went back to the baggage claim when it was time.   Mom and I anxiously looked through the people picking up their baggage...and don't see anyone looking remotely Filipino.  Argh! 
 
We went to the help desk, and the woman is surprised to see us again.  Mom and I explain that Mom's friends were supposed to be on that 6:30 flight, and they weren't there, and we were worried.  This time, she asks for their names, does some magic on her computer and finds out they're booked for the 10:30 flight, but they're on stand-by for the 8:30 flight.   She won't know if they're actually on the 8:30 flight until the plane leaves from Cincinnati at 7:00.  So we wait more. 

Mom and I have some quality time, talking (complaining) about Dad and Stink Pants #5.  It's so weird, because I remember when I was in high school, and how Mom and I fought all the time.  Now we're friends and we talk about things like shopping and how annoying our husband/fiance can be.  Sunrise, Sunset.
 
After checking with the lady, Mom and I were pretty certain that Mom's friends were on the 8:30 flight, but we weren't positive.  When the time reads 8:30, no one shows up.  The flight is late.  All right...what else can we do?
 
9:00, baggage appears on the belt and people start streaming in.  We watch people come and go...no Filipinos.  Mom decides to ask the help lady again, when I see two really short people moving for their bags.  They look Filipino to me, so I say, "Mom, how about them?"  Mom looks up, claps really loud and yells "Oi! Gigi!"  Hurray!  It's them!
 
We grab their bags and head out to the car.  Mom and Gigi talk very quickly in Tagalog, and I walk in front of them, leading the way to the car.  Gorge asks me how old I am, how long we've been waiting, and other types of small talk.  As we all get into the car, I ask Mom where's the ticket.  She can't find it.  Ugh.  I try to help her, but she won't let me look in her purse.  After turning her purse thisway and that, she starts taking stuff out.  That's when I see it sticking out of a pocket.  Hurray!  
 
So now we're on our way to Troy.  There's traffic on I-75.  As we inch along, the number of lanes being used decreases from four to three, then two, then finally one.  Of all the nights, that night the construction gods were tearing up a bridge.  It took us another hour to get the the hotel.  It's 10:30 at night, and there are no restaurants open.  Luckily the lounge is open, and we get some food that is actually pretty decent.  All the while, Mom and Gigi are speaking in tongues.  Tito Gorge looks at me.
 
Tito Gorge:  Do you know what they're talking about?
 
Laura:  No, what?
 
Tito Gorge:  (with a laugh) They're talking about all the people who have died! 
 
I guess they changed the reunion from every five years to every two, because people kept dying. 
 
In the lounge, there are bunches of Filipinos visiting for the reunion.  I noticed two major things.  
 
1) I'm not short, I'm average.
2) Pinoy doctors wear collared shirts. 
 
While we ate, I also got to learn some neato facts about my parents.  My dad was first in his class when he graduated and Mom and her four friends used to buy and wear matching bags and shoes!  
 
After eating, Mom and Tita Gigi make plans for Saturday, and Mom and I are on our way home!  It's midnight.  We spent nine hours at the airport, and fourteen hours away from home (from the time we left to the time we arrived back at home.)  
 
It was a long day.