But thankfully we had the car pretty much ready to go by the time we heard the first "mamas" and "dadas" creeping out from under the bedroom door. We simultaneously put on their clothes and fed them breakfast before they could wake up enough to generate any resistance. Out the door by six, and on our way to the airport!
After a quick and easy drive through the early morning streets of Tucson, we parked the car and hopped on the terminal shuttle.
The coffee was beginning to kick in by that point, but this was still very much a posed photo. Quinn hasn't learned to smile for the camera yet, so his face is by far the most accurate representation of how we were all feeling.
We breezed through check-in and security, taking advantage of several lessons previously learned, as well as my still novel military perks.
I realize that I haven't really gone into any detail about that on the blog yet, so here's the quick version of why my face suddenly became clean shaven. Last year I joined the United States Public Health Service. We respond to hurricanes, infection outbreaks, and other public health disasters that overwhelm the local public health and medical infrastructure. We're a branch of the military, but we're under the Surgeon General, not the department of defense.
So in exchange for being available to respond to a Coronavirus outbreak, I can check up to three bags for free, skip the line at security, and get free admission to frequent flier lounges. I'm good with that. In fact, right before I signed my commissioning paperwork, Aimee asked me (not entirely tongue in cheek), "Are you joining the military for free Chex mix at the airport?" It may have played a role.
The Tucson airport actually has a small military lounge, but it's outside of security. So we got some civilian cappuccinos and bagel sandwiches while our kids checked out the airplanes.
We boarded the plane in a half-asleep stupor, being that our flight took off at the time that we would otherwise just be waking up. Aimee and I were split between two different rows, but thankfully a small child and her mom were seated next to Aimee and Quinn. All three kids kids read and played with a handful of small toys that we brought along, and the flight was over before we knew it.
We had a two hour layover in Dallas, which has dozens of military and frequent flier lounges. But our kids could have cared less, because it also has a giant escalator.
We rode the escalator in both directions for easily twenty minutes before I convinced our kids that there were some more comfortable options available to us.
"Yes, Dad, the Admirals Club mac and cheese is surprisingly tasty, but my heart remains with the escalator."
In addition to some nice coffee, and yes, free Chex Mix, the Admirals Club even had a little children's room. Although with nothing more inside of it than two desktop computers, it's apparently only for toddlers on business travel.
Quinn protested having to think about work at a time like this.
I could have spent the whole day there; our kids were not quite as enamored. But by the time they started to get antsy, we needed to start walking to our gate anyway. When we got there, we were pleasantly surprised to be upgraded to the comfort economy section of the airplane. The gate agents had clearly taken pity on a family with two small children, and this was the only section where they could sit us all together. I'm never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
We boarded early, and got the kids situated with plenty of time to spare. I played with the wide angle lens on my phone while our prenager looked out the window, apparently embarrassed to be traveling with her family.
Or maybe she was just tired.
We were fortunate to have both kids take naps on that flight. It was barely three hours long, and they slept for half of it. But unfortunately the second half had quite a bit of turbulence. It wasn't "put your affairs in order" turbulence, but it definitely was "can't go to the potty" turbulence. That's a tough concept to explain to a three year old. So instead I just tried to distract her with magna-tiles and airplane pretzels. It worked in waves that likely corresponded to her bladder contractions. But she made it! She's come along way since our epic transatlantic flight last year, and made it through the flight without any accidents or breakdowns. That said, I can't remember the last time I was so happy to land. Once we reached the gate, I gathered our bags while Aimee and the kids made a beeline for the forward lavatory.
By the time I got off the plane, Mimi had long since finished using the restroom and was taking advantage of being free from the fasten seatbelt sign. Disembarking from an airplane at a foreign airport is always a nice mix of exciting and terrifying, but is especially so when your three year old has a knack for running down unmarked, Soviet-era hallways.
Thankfully, it turns out she has a knack for navigating foreign airports. Immigration and passport control was right where she had led us. But unfortunately, our slow exit from the plane put us in the back of the line. Quinn was strapped into his carrier on Aimee's back, but Mimi required a bit of redirection every few seconds. Mimi, please come back. Mimi, please don't play with the barricade ropes. Mimi, please don't antagonize armed law enforcement in a foreign country.
It didn't take much more than that to convince me to toss her up on my shoulders for the thirty minutes we were in line. A bit of back pain tomorrow would be infinitely better than the alternatives.
After that, the only event of note was yet another immigration agent who didn't comment on how amazing Quinn's passport photo is.
For crying out loud. I think I'm going to write his supervisor.
After our passports were stamped and our visas were issued, we made our way to customs and baggage claim. Mimi wanted to "help."
If nothing else, it slowed her down a bit. That's something.
We got our bags, and breezed through customs. Then it was off to the taxi stand. Aimee and I were in no condition to pre-plan for this trip, but thankfully Nona was. She had reserved a taxi to be waiting for us at the airport. And let me tell you, seeing your name on a paper sign after an international flight with small children never gets old.
But by the time we got off our already-delayed flight, waited in line at immigration, and collected our outrageous amount of gear, the taxi driver had long since given up on us. In all fairness, it was well over two hours later than our arranged pick up time. But thankfully, Aimee and I both speak Spanish, and are plenty comfortable navigating around Mexico. So I didn't have any trouble arranging another ride. The taxi process at the airport was nicely organized, and well designed to decrease the risk of trouble.
But I was questioning all of that when our taxi was nowhere to be found when we went outside. And to make matters worse, the taxi drivers that were there just kept telling us to keep walking. The lights got darker, the crowds got thinner, and all we got from them was, "Keep walking!"
We're adventurous, but not reckless. Especially with a couple of kids in tow. But just as the hairs were starting to stand up on the back of my neck, I saw a car pull around with the proper logo on its side door.
Phew. So at least we weren't going to be kidnapped. But I was not optimistic that we'd all be fitting in that go kart.
Physics apply differently in developing countries, and somehow the driver was able to make six feet of luggage fit into a four foot trunk. With room to spare.
While he was doing that, I locked down the car seats with less confidence than I'd have at home, but more than I needed to get into that cab. Aimee, however, was going to have to sit in the footwell.
Grael had arranged our apartments through an online broker. They were roomy and conveniently located, but like most vacation rentals, don't have a front desk. So when the taxi driver pulled up to the unmarked steel door on the dark street at the address we gave him, even he gave me a look to say, "You sure about this?"
Those hairs on the back of my neck were about to get another workout when thankfully Nona came running around the corner. It's always nice to see a friend on vacation, but this one takes the cake. We made it! Still not kidnapped!
Were we happy to be there? Of course. Were we past the point of questioning this decision? Absolutely not. But Nona and Grael knew exactly how to nurse us back to health. They took us out for beers at a charming little place that, get this, Aimee and I had been to four years earlier!
Aimee and I had fallen in love with Coyoacán, the neighborhood surrounding Frida's house, when we visited Mexico City on our pre-kid jaunt a few months before Mimi was born. There was a specific cafe in that town that was so charming that Aimee and I decided we would live near it if we ever found ourselves in Mexico City again. And without even a hint of knowing that, Nona and Grael had stumbled on the exact same place when they arrived the day earlier. In fact, they were just as enamored with it, and this would actually be their third visit in 24 hours.
This trip, at some point in the foreseeable future, possibly, just barely, may be worth the effort to get here. Maybe. Another round of beers won't hurt.
