Flight Risks

I'm a bit forgetful these days. I go upstairs to retrieve reading glasses and come downstairs completely baffled about why I made the trip and why my hands are empty. I stare into the refrigerator wondering what it was I craved, until I finally realize I was looking for my shoes. Aging can be a bitch.

Don't tell anyone, but my dementia seems to have reached a new level. Apparently, I forgot to book my flight to Washington for my daughter's graduation. Yes, we arrived at the airport yesterday to discover that my husband and my son indeed had seats, but my daughter and I were nowhere to be found. Well, we were standing right there, but you know what I mean.

The ticket agent tapped away furiously at the keys on the mysterious computer in front of her, and for the first time ever I was pretty certain it wasn't just gibberish -- she was seriously looking for our reservations. If only I had the email confirmation with me, but alas, all I had with me was the confirmation of my cupcake order for Sunday's brunch. Hmm, come to think of it, I don't remember seeing an email confirmation for my flights.

Luckily, for a mere small fortune, we were able to snag seats on the flight, made it through security without any of us being molested, and set to work looking for more modestly priced flights home. The good news is we found some. Unfortunately, we have to fly through Atlanta (we might as well have a layover in Mars), but we should arrive home in time for my daughter to start her homework at midnight.

I am guarding my cupcake confirmation with my life. Forgetting to book flights is one thing, but brunch without the cupcakes would really be a disaster.