Seven hours in an airport, with three kids, stuck waiting near the gate because of frequent weather updates from the connecting airport. Followed by a missed connection, which resulted in a night spent in the connecting city. With no luggage. No toothpaste. And no clean underwear.
Did I mention the kids? How about the sister-fights at the back of the plane during boarding, after the toothpasteless night, which had me worried that we’d be booted off the plane and added to a never-let-these-fools-fly-again list. All while Sam sat in a nearby seat muttering sweet nothings about guns and bombs, since he saw pictures of them at the security checkpoint. Each time, I spoke sternly about the potential consequences of such mutterings, to which he responded, loudly, “MOM, DO YOU REALLY THINK THE GOVERNMENT IS MONITORING OUR CONVERSATIONS??” Then he continued his Monologue of Weaponry.
They let us travel anyway. So much for Homeland Security.