4 days ago...
Pete: I see you've booked yourself another round of rookie flights back to Edinburgh.
A-L: No, it's fine. I have a friend in Cincinnati who might come see me at the airport, and I'm hoping to meet Dawn in Paris for a coffee before my flight to Edinburgh.
Pete: I hope your 'friend' in Cincinnati likes Kentucky, because that's where the airport is.
A-L: Shirley, you jest.
Pete: The Cincinnati airport is in Northern Kentucky. Look it up. But it's just across the river.
A-L: What river? So where was WKRP?
Pete: And I don't think it's a good idea to leave the airport in Paris. It'll take you longer than you think to get into town, and you'll have a heckuva time going back through security.
A-L: It's amazing that I survive alone in Scotland.
Pete: Your mother prays A LOT.
A-L: So are you taking me to the airport?
Pete: Yeah, I'm going to East Texas for work.
4:30 a.m. the morning of departure...
Irma: Your father has to repack his suitcase. He forgot it was winter in East Texas.
A-L: What season did he think it was? Does this mean I have to wait for him to execute a complete wardrobe change? Does he know Colorado just got hit by another blizzard? I heard they're airlifting food to cattle stranded in the snow. And Pete's packed linen trousers?
Pete (shouts from the other room): I'm not going to Colorado. I'm going to East Texas. Oklahoma protects it from Colorado.
At the airport...
After security, I realise I left my winter coat in the rental car that my dad was going to turn in. I make my way to the gate, then consider calling my dad's cell phone from the pay phone, and decide just to head to the lounge.
Lady at the desk, after I show my boarding pass: Your dad is looking for you. He has your coat. He's waiting downstairs for you.
So I go back to the front, and find my dad, who says someone took my coat to the gate.
A-L (sheepishly): Thanks.
So I go back through security, and to the gate, and retrieve my coat. Then back to the lounge.
Lady at the desk: Oh good, you got your coat.
A-L: Yeah, I wonder why my parents treat me like I'm 11 years old, and then I leave my coat in the rental car.
Lady at the desk: Oh, I bet your mom prays for you, a lot.