The last few months have been a blur of much needed family time. After we said our goodbyes to one of our favorite surf spots in California, San Onofre, we drove inland to Park City first and then later, in a zig zag of planes, trains and automobiles, to: Crested Butte, Bailey, Minnesota, Angel Fire, Clovis and Logan, New Mexico. Niko and I are eternally grateful for the time we got to spend with our families. It’s hard living so far away from the people we love most, but we are so happy we were able to log some good time with everyone. A big heartfelt thank you to all of our friends and family members who welcomed us into their homes with open arms, fed us, and offered words of encouragement for this little ‘walk-about’. We love you all.

Our last night in New Mexico went off without a hitch, but our luck ran out as soon as the clock stuck midnight, on August 2nd, our D-Day. The day started out normal enough. I woke up early relishing the fact that I had enough time to take a shower and get ready for our big travel day. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped into the shower. Cold water greeted me. “Fair enough I thought to myself, I hadn’t let the water run long enough”. A couple minutes of goose-bump cold water went by, long enough for me to ride the tide of emotions coming over me. Was it a bad omen? I was struck by an unshakeable feeling that this was an ominous sign of things to come, trivial as a cold shower is, given that we had just endured the frigid waters of the Pacific for years in preparation for our trip. I tried to shake off the doom and gloom, and was feeling slightly more optimistic, but not any warmer, by the time I got out. Dried off, cleared my head, and looked down at my phone, lit up by two American Airlines notifications. One, telling me to check into my flight, normal enough, the other, a big ol’ cancellation banner running across the flight info. I don’t think I have ever had a flight straight up canceled, so the words didn’t hit home right away. Canceled? Which flight? Because of COVID? Can we not get into Portugal? My head was spinning, and the only way I could make sense of it was to wake Niko up from his peaceful slumber with words no one wants to wake up to. Pssssst, I whispered in his ear, relaying the bad news. From there, we were going a million miles an hour. Our flight from Albuquerque to Dallas had been canceled, but the rest was still intact. A quick search showed us that there was another flight heading to Dallas departing in less than an hour. We sped off to the Sunport, said our goodbyes to Kelly and joined the mayhem at the American counter. Much to our dismay, there was basically nothing the ticket counter attendant could do for our predicament, so I called the Enforcer, AKA Jed, who, at this point, should be on American Airlines’ salary given his skill at booking flights. While dad worked on the flights, Niko and I got our COVID Antigen test for Portugal. Every flight to Dallas was either booked or sold out, leaving us with no other option than booking an entirely new flight, with entirely new layovers and connections. While that would be no big deal in the before times, during COVID, that presented us with an entirely new set of challenges. Our flights, once ABQ-Dallas-Madrid-Faro, turned to PHX-Chicago-Dublin-Faro. Flying into Dublin, as we found out, required a negative PCR test, not an antigen test and flying to Phoenix was out of the question, as all flights were either sold out, insanely expensive, or did not get us there in time for our departure the next day. Taking it one problem at a time, we decided we needed to get another COVID test at the Sunport, but not before we could figure out our rental car situation. That’s right, we would need to drive our happy little asses from Albuquerque to Phoenix. We got to the rental car office only to be told that all cars were sold out. Our hopes rested on the little Avis counter where an inpatient woman eyed me suspiciously as I made my way to her. I rattled off our predicament to her, which was my first mistake. I think she could smell the fear on me, which is rule number one, when booking a rental car, I think. Unfazed by my current situation, she answered back in a matter-of-fact tone that she had one, one-way rental car left, and how lucky we were to only pay $450 for it. Niko and I exchanged incredulous looks, hemmed and hawed a little, and asked if that really was the price for a one way rental car, returned in less than a day’s time. The woman, nice as she was, pointedly looked at the line of people forming behind me, all with the same look of fear in their eyes, as if to say, take it or leave it, punk. Say no more. Keys in hand and a hell of a lot poorer, we drove that shiny thang back to the Sunport where we dropped another $200 each for PCR tests, hoping our results would be delivered in time for our flight the next day. With sore noses and sore wallets, we decided to grab brunch one last time with Kelly before we started our journey to Phoenix.
The drive was rather unremarkable, at first, but as should’ve been expected based on my cold shower omen, we soon ran into rather turbulent weather. Rain pelted the weather in droves so intensely I could hardly see 3 feet in front of me. By this time we were unconvinced God, or whomever, wanted us to go to Portugal. However, hubris and agnosticism kept my foot on the pedal, pushing us onward.

After 6.5 hours of relentless sun and heat and cacti, we pulled into Tyler and Kim’s house, breathing a sigh of relief at having made it, and grateful for the chance to spend a little bit more time with family.
Despite the objectively atrocious start to the trip, our day was full of little reminders that things weren’t so bad. With every twist and turn of the day, there were people along the way trying to make things a little better. From Kelly running around, picking us up and dropping us off at a moment’s notice and buying us breakfast, dad’s immediate jump into action to help us book new flights without batting an eye, the COVID nurse who gave us a discount on our second test, Niko making me laugh incessantly (per usual), bringing levity to the day, to Tyler and Kim welcoming us to stay with them last minute, having food on the table and a bed made to rest our head, I was humbled at the generosity of those around me. It was a beautiful, albeit not gentle, reminder that I have so many people in my life that I can count on to make days like today, a little easier.

A bad day is still just a day. They come and go, just like the good ones. But the people around us, although they might still come and go, hang around a little longer to help along the way. A huge, huge, thank you to everyone who made our bad day, just a day.

I'm sitting here, writing this from the Chicago airport, after a healthy helping of free alcohol at the Aer Lingus Lounge (viva Ireland!). We are waiting for our flight to board, feeling overwhelmingly grateful and excited. Onward!