Hostage Situation

Friday afternoon, I drove Jude, J.P. and Joey to the airport, so they could fly to Jacksonville, FL, to spend Labor Day weekend with the Baines' family.  In the past, Jude has made a late summer trip there by herself (or later, with J.P.).  This time around, I decided to stay home to try and get caught up at work.  So, there we were Friday about 5:30 p.m., standing together in the security line, as I prepared to usher the 3 of them through, so I could drive back to Urban Grub in 12South and meet my friend, Mike Matteson, to watch the Tennessee-N.C. State football game together.  It looked like I would arrive at my barstool just before kickoff.

In other words, while Jude flew to Jacksonville with a 4 1/2 year old and a 6 month old, I would be sitting at the bar with one of my best friends, having a cold beer and cheering on my beloved Vols in their season opener.  Seems about right, doesn't it?

When we reached the front of the security line, Jude realized she didn't have an infant boarding pass for Joey.  Ever the helpful husband, I offered to walk back to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter and get the boarding pass we needed for Joey.  As I was talking to the lady at the ticket counter, one of the supervisors from the security checkpoint walked up beside me.  Trying to be helpful (I guess), he said to the lady at the ticket counter, "just print him a non-passenger boarding pass."

Time stood still, as I stared at the man incredulously.  "What?" I said.  "I didn't know you could do that."  This, of course, was "code" for "I am trying to get out of this airport, so I can have a beer with my buddy and watch my football team play."

"Sure they can," he replied.  As the lady printed, then handed me a non-passenger boarding pass, the man grinned at me stupidly (or, perhaps, cleverly).  "I've got my own kids," he said.  "You can take your kids to their gate."  For a brief moment, I seriously thought about throat punching him.  "Oh, okay.  Good idea." I stammered.

I walked back to the front of the security line, head down, muttering profanities to myself.  When I saw Jude and the boys, I forced a smile and, through gritted teeth, said "Guess what?  I can go through security with you and take you to the gate."  Jude looked relieved and J.P. squealed with delight.  I smiled, just a little.

We quickly got through the security checkpoint, then waited in another line to send Jude's carry-on luggage through the x-ray machine.  We took off our shoes, emptied our pockets, broke down the stroller and walked through the scanner.  Next, it was on to find a cup of hot water, so we could give Joey a bottle (Starbucks did the trick).  As Joey drank his milk and J.P. played in the Southwest Airlines play area, I peaked at my watch every couple of minutes, sighing as kickoff came and went.

I texted by buddy, Mike, advising him that I had blundered into a "hostage situation."  I was kidding, of course.  Sort of.

Finally, departure time neared and I walked Jude, J.P. and Joey to their gate.  We said our goodbyes and my impatience aside, I was touched when J.P. told me how much he was going to miss me.  Suddenly, I could have cared less about the Tennessee game, season opener or not.  I walked through the airport to my truck, already missing my family and looking forward to their return on Monday morning.