I would officially like to announce my cadidacy for "Husband of the Year" honors. I know, you are thinking, "You just left your wife alone for more than a month", which is true, but hear me out. In all seriousness, I was able to pull off my greatest husbandish feat to date, and it all worked out perfectly. If you have a minute, here is the story: 
Friday evening I walked to this train station, the same as I had done several times a day for 5 weeks; the difference was that this time I was loaded down with two packs that easily weighed more than my Mini back home. Perhaps I should start earlier that week, let us say Monday.
I discovered that for a minimal fee I could change my flight and head home early, and so I began a lengthy conversation with the good people at Virgin Atlantic to do just that. After 2 days, several hours, and 12 or so customer service representatives later I was able to line up a flight from London to Miami to Dallas on Sunday, June 2.
The events of last Thursday have led me to my second nomination: my sister Abbey for the "My Favorite Sister" award. She works for the Gaylord Hotel, and she and her boss arranged for Julie and I to stay in a Luxury Suite on the Sunday night of my return. Now came the hard work. I concocted a reason for Julie to accompany Abbey for a "girl's weekend" at the Gaylord, and after literally begging her to take the day off and do it, she finally agreed to spend the weekend at the hotel.
Everything was set, Julie seemed sufficiently in the dark, and so on Friday evening I began my 52 hour journey back to Dallas. 3 trains through the beautiful heart of Germany led me to Brussels, not as pretty a place, and from there I took a train to London.
I spent the day taking in the sites of London, and by 1:00 a.m. I found myself on the concrete floor outside the Heathrow Terminal where I tried my hardest to sleep, which is not as easy as one might think; I spent the majority of the wee hours of the morning dodging Zamboni-like cleaning machines, protecting my possessions from drunks who seemed to be eyeing my bags, and overcoming my own stench from having been walking in the London heatwave for the last 12 hours.
Apparantly things get going in airports sometime around 5:00 a.m., so I did not sleep long. I took my airport "shower" (sink, paper-towels...you get the picture), brushed my teeth and settled in for the longest 5 hours of my life. This gave my plenty of time to worry about my flight, knowing that I only had 2 hours in Miami to get through Passport Control, recover and take my bags through Customs, recheck them, get back through security, and find the correct gate. It should be no problem, right?
Once on board the plane in London things got a bit hairy, though. My flight was delayed exactly two hours due to bad weather, but the pilot promised to leave earlier than that and then make up time in the air. Either way, it was going to be close. He kept his word, and 9 hours later I unboarded in Miami with just under two hours to do those things previously mentioned. Apparantly Miami International Airport is the slowest place on the planet. It took about 1 hour and 45 minutes to get to my gate, and I was the last person to step on the plane. They literally shut the door behind me as I entered.
I made it to the Gaylord just after 9:00, minutes after Julie arrived, and as I walked into the room Julie could not have looked more surprised. My mom had sent up a bottle of champagne, we had a late dinner, and then breakfast on the balcony in the morning. It could not have been more perfect.
So, I'm home. Hope to hear from you all soon.
Friday evening I walked to this train station, the same as I had done several times a day for 5 weeks; the difference was that this time I was loaded down with two packs that easily weighed more than my Mini back home. Perhaps I should start earlier that week, let us say Monday.I discovered that for a minimal fee I could change my flight and head home early, and so I began a lengthy conversation with the good people at Virgin Atlantic to do just that. After 2 days, several hours, and 12 or so customer service representatives later I was able to line up a flight from London to Miami to Dallas on Sunday, June 2.
The events of last Thursday have led me to my second nomination: my sister Abbey for the "My Favorite Sister" award. She works for the Gaylord Hotel, and she and her boss arranged for Julie and I to stay in a Luxury Suite on the Sunday night of my return. Now came the hard work. I concocted a reason for Julie to accompany Abbey for a "girl's weekend" at the Gaylord, and after literally begging her to take the day off and do it, she finally agreed to spend the weekend at the hotel.
Everything was set, Julie seemed sufficiently in the dark, and so on Friday evening I began my 52 hour journey back to Dallas. 3 trains through the beautiful heart of Germany led me to Brussels, not as pretty a place, and from there I took a train to London.
I spent the day taking in the sites of London, and by 1:00 a.m. I found myself on the concrete floor outside the Heathrow Terminal where I tried my hardest to sleep, which is not as easy as one might think; I spent the majority of the wee hours of the morning dodging Zamboni-like cleaning machines, protecting my possessions from drunks who seemed to be eyeing my bags, and overcoming my own stench from having been walking in the London heatwave for the last 12 hours.
Apparantly things get going in airports sometime around 5:00 a.m., so I did not sleep long. I took my airport "shower" (sink, paper-towels...you get the picture), brushed my teeth and settled in for the longest 5 hours of my life. This gave my plenty of time to worry about my flight, knowing that I only had 2 hours in Miami to get through Passport Control, recover and take my bags through Customs, recheck them, get back through security, and find the correct gate. It should be no problem, right?
Once on board the plane in London things got a bit hairy, though. My flight was delayed exactly two hours due to bad weather, but the pilot promised to leave earlier than that and then make up time in the air. Either way, it was going to be close. He kept his word, and 9 hours later I unboarded in Miami with just under two hours to do those things previously mentioned. Apparantly Miami International Airport is the slowest place on the planet. It took about 1 hour and 45 minutes to get to my gate, and I was the last person to step on the plane. They literally shut the door behind me as I entered.
I made it to the Gaylord just after 9:00, minutes after Julie arrived, and as I walked into the room Julie could not have looked more surprised. My mom had sent up a bottle of champagne, we had a late dinner, and then breakfast on the balcony in the morning. It could not have been more perfect.
So, I'm home. Hope to hear from you all soon.
I am so happy that I raised a romantic son, tho I had nothing to do with it. It just makes me happy to see you investing your energies and money on loving your wife. Welcome home!
I am just thrilled that everything went as planned!!! I was so afraid that Julie might be waiting at the Gaylord by herself all night. I'm glad that I was able to help:) Love you guys! :)