Jonathan and I are heading off to Australia for OSSPAC today. I had asked Kris to take us to the airport, letting him know that if he's home by 2:30, we should be fine. He arrived home just before 2:30, as I frantically gathered the rest of my items, throwing this and that into bags, realizing that I had more stuff than my carryon and personal item bags. I usually sneak on a third bag of food, since food bags aren't considered in the count (and, oh boy, did I have a lot of food with me).
As I gathered my items, Kris stood at the door, becoming more and more agitated. I ran out of the house, bags in hand, shoving them into the truck, and off we went to pick up Snook from work. He was, thankfully, waiting for us at his work's roundabout, so picking him up was easy. Kris was increasingly nervous about getting us to the airport on time.
When he stayed in the right lane, I commented that, no, he didn't want 237 West, he wanted 101 South, he asked me, "What airport are we going to?"
His whole body relaxed.
Apparently, he had asked me earlier if we were flying out of San Francisco International, and I had grunted yes. The longer it took me to get out of the house, the less and less likely we were going to make our flight.
Fortunately, the 45 minute, really 60 minute in this bad traffic, airport run was actually a 15 minute dropoff, and Kris didn't have to worry too much about our missing our flight. Suddenly my cavilier attitude made sense: we were going to arrive at the airport waaaaaay early.
I tragically planned poorly for tickets, having bought tickets out of Los Angeles instead of SFO. Next time I'll be better about checking for all good times, but this time, meh, Los Angeles, here we come!