Did I leave off at Thanksgiving?

I did.

Thanksgiving morning found a very excited Gwen on her way to the airport.  My mom dropped John and I off fairly early, I do remember that.  We easily checked in, and smartly, did not check a bag.  You know, if I don’t have to check, I don’t.  John and I had purchased tickets that took us from San Francisco to Chicago to Dublin.  Not a bad flight actually.  I always hope for a non-stop, but one stop?  Not that bad.

As we waited for the flight, I began to notice other flight passengers getting antsy.  Our flight was delayed.  There were several other groups going to Ireland, and one had 2 children.  The mother was trying to figure out how to get her brood to Shannon.  I wished that we were off to Shannon, but we weren’t, and the agent said there was nothing to worry about.

Within half an hour, I was antsy.  I looked up, and our flight had been canceled.  Lucky for me, that mother was still up there, getting everything moved over.  I asked if we could be moved onto her flight.  And within 10 minutes we were on a plane to JFK, that connected to a flight going to Heathrow, and then connected to Dublin.  Not quite what we thought we were in for, but, with an arrival time only 4 hours off our original time…  Who could really lose.  Come to find out, our original plane had died just over Reno.  There were no other planes available to take our flight.  We got lucky that I forced the carry-on issue with John.  Had we not carried on, we might have not gotten to Dublin (although another couple was placed on a flight through Paris, John thought we should have tried to get on that flight).

On the flight, I was supposed to do homework.  Yeah, it didn’t happen.  John didn’t help much either.  It was on that flight that John made the “plan”.  We were working on sudoku in the American Airlines magazine, and then he started planning our future.  Engagement in December, wedding in July, baby number one by June of 2008.  It all sounded so fast, but you know what?  It felt absolutely right.  I was thinking that if we could get through this trip, it would work.  If I was trying to kill him…  Well, at least I got to go to Dublin.

There was quite a bit of resting on the plane.  At JFK, I learned that he should never get to go to the bathroom first (and I continue to forget it).  From JFK to Heathrow, we had inside seats, together, but the inner two of a 5 seat row.  Poor John…  That 6’5” frame barely fit in that seat.  I’m not quite sure how his knees did it.  We stopped talking about the plane, but I think at that point, on that flight, I told him I loved him.  He responded in kind.  Very anti-climatic, but nice just the same.

At Heathrow, things got a bit sticky.  In the states, we are allowed 2 bags to carry-on.  They say 1 carry-on and 1 personal item, but it works out as two, if you do it right.  At Heathrow, we could only take 1 bag on.  Somehow, I’m not quite sure how, I put that “personal item” into my suitcase and got it through security.  I still don’t know how I got it onto the plane to Dublin.  The gate agents weren’t paying attention, and then when I got on the plane, I asked if I could make it two again, so it would fit in the overhead.  Lucky me. 

One very short hour later…  John and I arrived in Dublin.  Neither of us had remembered to print out which hotel we were staying at.  Lucky for us there was a bank of computers with internet access.  In addition, I had my phone left over from my Wales trip.  Unfortunately it had little time on it, AND there is no Virgin fill-up points in Ireland.  What a crock.  The phone was supposed to help.  Not.  Well, at least then.

We caught a taxi, and in the lovely Dublin rain, went to our hotel.  It was the most lovely drive, with a really nice cabbie, who gave us a map…