The Big Schlep

Turned over the keys to the real estate agent this morning. Got ourselves to the airport with overweight bags – we weighed them at home but we were off by a few pounds per bag.

Now we look like we’ve put on 10 lbs wearing extra clothes, coats and our pockets stuffed. Our first flight to LA has been cancelled. The rebook is running late. Deep breath.

Tonight we will stay in Los Angeles, pick up our passports and visas at the consulate tomorrow, then fly away.

Our tether to the US has been cut. And we haven’t tied up yet in our new home. When the woman at the Southwest Airlines counter told me I needed to get rid of some of the stuff in my two bags, I teared up. Yoga mat ❌ Vitamins I can’t get in Spain ⛔️.

We shuffled and pitched stuff. Then went thru security. Now, I’ve been strip searched in such lofty locales like Cedar Rapids, Iowa in the middle of a snow storm. Certainly, more than once in Seattle when they tested my hands randomly after I’d filled up the tank of my car near the airport.

So I wasn’t surprised when, even though I have TSA pre-check, I was pulled out of line. My carryon bags are stuffed to the gills (see over-weight bags) so when the guy opened them to examine what sounded the alarm it was like a Jack-in-the-Box burst forth.

“Yeah I know. It’s a clown car in there.’ I told him when he looked up at me.

He got it all back in and sent us on our way.

Sitting here at the gate, Jeff asked me where we should say we’re from, when people ask us. I didn’t have an answer. Right now we’re in the in-between. We’re not from anywhere now. We’re just ‘going-to’. Today, that realization is a little harder than I thought it would be.