Vacation - Sad Saturday

We awoke Saturday to the prospect of returning to the land of sea level and real world humidity. Time to head home for good (for now).

All was packed up, so we (which is to say, I) couldn’t make that one last run down Bighorn …. ah, well, we had beaten that horse pretty good. The east coast group loaded up in the car—the California crew got to stay until 1 PM—and headed north.

But not before one last tour of the house and a picture to remember it by:

I turned in the car, so we met in the airport restaurant for lunch and to kill some time until the respective flights. I did manage to get my bottle of Moose Drool for my collection, to go with the T-shirt Jane had gotten me. And, even though it is a Montana icon, I wasn’t that fond of Moose Drool. The shirt looks cool though.

The flight was great. We had the exit row, and the time…pardon the pun…flew by. The departure out of Minneapolis was running late, but we were not dismayed because we had gotten the exit row again. Yes! The only problem was that Evie and Rosa were going to pick us up in Tampa; what started as a 10:40 arrival was quickly inching towards midnight. Jane managed to call them off before they left, so we were left to our own devices. Little did we know….

The easiest thing to do was to call the same service that had taken us to the airport at the beginning of the trip. So I did. No problem, he said.

We arrived to find our driver dressed in the most bizarre clash of patterns I have seen in 20 years. He said everyone called him “Duck” because of his obsession with waterfowl. The dashboard of his Lincoln was covered from side to side with what can best be described as “rubber duckies.” We, of course, got to listen to all of Duck’s life story—seems that fatigued travelers are the prime target for this type of indignity.

Upon reaching the house, we paid Duck and received, as a token of his gratitude for the tip, a beautiful calendar of—what else?—ducks in various angles of flight. Wow. But the best part of the homecoming? The house key that was supposed to be in the laundry room wasn’t. My keys were in the house, as were Jane’s. Now, the dilemma we faced at 1AM was difficult. Jane’s mom most likely had the extra key, but we couldn’t drive the cars over to get it because, obviously, the car keys were in the house. None of the other people who might be able to help were awake (we called some). The housesitter conscientiously locks the doors and buttons up the windows every time he leaves. Great. Soon we discovered one that wasn’t battened down and Jane managed to squeeze through it. Whew! Home again.