Of course  I know where I'm going...oops

So here I am this morning, driving my brother to DFW Airport so he can make his 6 a.m. flight.  It's 4:30, and I'm going to get him there within the proscribed 90-minute window.

After finally figuring out where they kept Continental Airlines in the terminal, we proceed to the ticket counter with a spring in his step, and a dull thud in mine from lugging his suitcase.

"Oh, so you had to wheel his bag around.  Big whoop, pansy-ass" I hear you guys saying.

Well, not so fast. This is my had-to-drag-him-into-the-computer-age brother. His  suitcase...is my dad's old Samsonite.  My dad's 30-year-old, wheel-less  Samsonite suitcase.

And while it wasn't nearly as packed as mine usually is...well, let's just say that I've had my workout for the day. (sigh)

And, as the ticket agent is checking my bro's ID, she drops the nuclear bomb on us:  The flight I booked for my brother...originated from Dallas Love Field.  As in, 30-miles-away Dallas Love Field.

And by now, it's 4:45, and there's no way in Hell™ we'll be able to get to Love in time to make the correct flight.

Oops.

But we're living righteously this morning.  Fortunately, the agent, a wonderful lady whose name escapes me right now (that happens on 4½ hours sleep) tells us that it happens all the time.  A few keyclicks later, the sibling unit's entire itinerary has been changed to reflect departure & arrival at DFW.

Which is good, because I'm taking his car to the airport so he'll have it when he returns (he gets back before me).

Would it be about time for a Snickers right about now...?

The answer to all your questions

Yes - I'll have pictures.