Thanksgiving 2K23

or How I Went to Ft Lauderdale for Thanksgiving and All I Got Was Covid

TUESDAY

It’s early, very much still dark. At 4:44am it’s also 44°, which is good luck, right? I’ll wear shorts on the plane.

There’s a lot of last minute rushing around, final packing, making sure all the electronics are charged and stuffed into an interior pocket. I’ve cleaned the litter boxes and refilled the dry food dispenser, put out the extra water bowl. Pam’s in charge of making grapes and apples. Kids are up, excited.

Judah is wearing his black sweat pants. Fine, I’ll wear my black sweat pants, too.

At 5:45 the cab arrives; the driver who took me to the airport last time — and because I remembered him from a previous time, I asked if I could arrange for his minivan to come for my family for whatever trip we had next time.

“Just text me night before.”

So last night I texted. He texted back. And now he’s here. It worked!

There is ALWAYS STRESS before the cab/Uber arrives. Will it be big enough, will it smell funny, are the seat belts all working? So now… right now… I’m a hero.

His name is Fahkar. I don’t know that I’m going to pronounce it in a way that won’t be insulting and/or…