Most days I love my rural home. Those days I am up before the sun, happily curled up in my favorite chair drinking coffee and either reading or writing. Today we have an early (5:30 am flight) and we live an hour from the airport. If you do the math; factoring travel time, airport parking and shuttle time, check in time, and leaving time to get some breakfast because we will be in the plane for hours with no food…..this is not be a leisurely morning. In fact, even though we went to bed at about 8 pm. I am questioning whether we should have slept at all. It is almost yesterday really. But a new day has arrived whether we like it or not.

I am up and ready to go. Almost….

I make coffee and do the pre travel checklist while my husband showers. Passports. Wallet. Luggage. Medicine. Notes for the house sitter. Lights off. Birds secure. Thermostat set. Doors locked. Wow.. I can’t tell you how much in this moment I wished we lived closer to the airport. I hate the hour that separates me from the plane.

This time of morning there should be no traffic, so if we leave a little bit later my anxiety won’t spiral. But the later if gets, the more I worry and demand a time cushion. Because I have driven the highways into the city most days for twenty five years, I know what happens as traffic backs up, accidents happen, and road closures occur. To get to the plane, we have to navigate three of the four busiest roads in the region. Over the years, I have spent hours stuck in traffic on all of them. My husband thinks I am a worry wart…I just call it informed caution born of significant first hand experience.

As predicted, there isn’t much traffic at 3:00 am and we arrive at the airport in record time. The shuttle is waiting at our car before we even have the luggage out of the trunk. Perhaps our morning is charmed. The driver is as helpful and pleasant as anyone I have ever encountered and in minutes we are dropped off at the terminal. My husband asks if I am happy now. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I have arrived.

I am strangely euphoric at each travel milestone that stands between we and my destination. I get the same little boost when I get through security and when I actually board the plane. A psychologist likely has something to say about this tendency. Walking and laughing, we approach the Alaska airlines entrance. Stepping through the automatic doorway into a vestibule, we almost trip over a man snoring as he is passed out on the floor. His pants are down to upper thigh, exposing his backside. Hmmm.

My arrival euphoria crashes instantly. He isn’t dead. He is breathing. Is he drunk? Is he having a medical emergency? Is he a traveler? Is he unhoused? Do we seek help? We are wondering whether to try to intervene, step over, or find another door. We see a security guard approaching. So we nod and walk on. Weird. Being mooned at 3:40 in the morning at a major airport was not on my bingo card. I’m going to need a stronger cup of coffee.

After making it through security behind three older men who apparently have never been told they need to remove their belts and wallets to go through screening (they seriously act as if it is a totally new concept), I finally arrive at the gate with a large cup of coffee. It is a short wait to board.

When I get to my seat, I settle in for the next several hours. I arrange my phone and earphones and kindle. Creature comforts can make the flight bearable. I thought I would try to sleep but apparently the full moon experience at the airport entrance seared my eyeballs because they won’t close.

Alaska Airline provides free WiFi and entertainment options if you have a personal device. Watching a movie on my phone is sort of like looking at fine art transferred onto to a postage stamp, but it is better than nothing. I choose Hamnet from the long list of inflight options. I always choose movies I think my husband won’t enjoy (the only time I watch films is when we are together or I am sitting on a plane). It seems logical to pick something to pick something artsy.

Within an hour, I am crying on a plane. Again. Why do I do this to myself? A few years back, I watched Lion on a European flight. I sobbed so loud that an attendant asked if I was okay. I even ugly cried after watching Coco. It is a Disney cartoon for goodness sake. And now Hamnet. Tears. However, I am prepared with tissue and coffee. Intense familial devotion gets me every time….

Finally dry eyed, we arrive in Seattle on schedule and find our gate. This trip we don’t even need to use the inter terminal tram. Ten steps from jet bridge to the new gate.

Our flight is delayed. I realize I forgot to pack a deck of cards. Oh well. I have yet another coffee and we wait. My husband finds word games on his phone. I am only his emergency contact when he gets stuck so in between spelling emergencies, I watch people. To my great relief everyone is fully clothed in this airport.

The flight to Vancouver takes less than an hour. It is closer to a half hour. The plane takes off. We see a few mountains in the distance and then we descend. Thera seems to be an abundance of water. But we are on ground before I can orient myself.

We have arrived in Canada. The airport is a frenzy of activity. Apparently, it is World Cup week. I know this because of excessive signage and countless photo opportunities. The immigration check point is crowded. I joke that U.S. must be training the Canadian immigration agents (only because I have never had Canadians act this aggressively or rudely to people at the border …… unfortunately it seems the norm when returning to the USA). I think the Canadian team must be tired. Futbol fans have destroyed their last reserves of patience. The crowd is boisterous and intense. It is clear that more than a few have never traveled internationally and they aren’t really listening to directions because they also are overwhelmed. And because…selfies.

I sigh in relief when we get into the Canadian sunshine. I am away from the crowds and standing on Canadian soil. We have arrived. Now we just need to find the ride share pickup location. They have a designated Uber pick up point…that is so convenient.

Within minutes we are in a car and headed to Marpole where we have rented a house. It suddenly makes sense why we couldn’t find a hotel or rental closer to downtown. World Cup. Not on my radar. I barely have time to consider the dynamics of a city in World Cup frenzy when we pull up to a house. We have arrived.

We get out. This house looks under construction. Wait, this is the wrong house. The Uber has already pulled away. I walk to the house next door. Right address, but the door code doesn’t work. I look up the entry directions on the rental site. They don’t make sense based on our location. There is no side door. I text the owner. My husband brazenly unlocks a tall gate and goes into the back yard. He finds a door down steps and into a basement. The code works. We have arrived.

Turns out we have not rented a house. We have rented a room in a basement of the house with a private bath. There is a bed, a small table and chairs, a microwave, and two couches. There is not a television or a coffee pot. It is just one big crowded room. Hmm. This usually doesn’t happen.

Then I think about trying to book a place for the next three days. Hotels are full or cost over $800 per night. Usual rental channels are completely sold out. I booked the first rental that looked decent for that was close to public transport. The listing did say private home with private apartment and outside entrance. Technically that is what we have. I also remembered a short mention that the owners have children…that is now obvious as they bang and scream from the floor above. No worries. We are travel veterans. Sometimes things exceed your expectations and sometimes there is air conditioning in your newly acquired basement get away.

We have arrived. We are only here for three nights. That will be enough time to explore the city and catch our cruise ship for the real adventure. The price is affordable and it won’t be the first time I have crashed in someone’s basement. At least there is a fan. Let the Canadian adventures begin.