So Thursday afternoon I leave San Pedro in a jeep with rudimentary directions to one of the biggest and busiest airports in the world. I've arranged for two mini-vans, both of which require a 25-or-over driver with a major credit card, at the Dollar rent-a-car adjacent to LAX. I've also got a list of sixteen relatives, arriving on three different flights on three different airlines at three (slightly) different times. About half of the relatives don't speak English; I don't speak Vietnamese. I need to retrieve a couple drivers, go to Dollar, return to the three terminals, and then get the three vehicles and seventeen people back to San Pedro.
I arrive early, reverse my San Pedro-to-LAX directions and write out three copies, one for each vehicle. I pick up one brother (a displaced University of New Orleans undergrad studying in Oregon for the semester and hence on a flight all his own) but he's under 25. A perfect candidate to drive the jeep. We cruise around the seven terminals waiting for more siblings to land.
A brother-in-law pops out of the terminal. Over 25? Yep. Major credit card and valid driver's license? Not so much.
We keep cruising, three of us now in the jeep. Big group--parents, miscelaneous grandchildren, cousins--comes out of terminal five right on schedule. I explain why they have to stay in terminals a little longer and grab another brother, 25+ and holding a Visa. Four of us cruise to Dollar for vans. Three vans back to first terminal. Relatives. Wedding presents. Suitcases. Hugs all around. One van full.
Next terminal. More relatives. More baggage. More hugs. Another van full. I give written directions to the other two drivers for "just in case we get split up on the highway." A seminarian, a friend of the family at the airport to "help with the arrival" announces that we should wait for him curbside at the terminal while he goes and gets his car from the garage. Security already eyeing the bilingual crowd with conspicuous large boxes, already shooing us toward the exit. I tell seminarian to catch up with us on the 405--you can't miss the parade of two mini-vans and a jeep going slow in the right lane.
Everybody loaded. Jeep, still driven by younger brother, his twin the only passenger, jets out of LAX. So much for the directions being "just in case we get split up." Mini-vans pull out. I'm in the lead. Loud Vietnamese conversations fill the vehicle. Crying grandchild, comforted only by very loud rock and roll on the radio. Mini-van in the rear view. Numerous cell phone conversations with seminarian, trying desperately to catch up to me, though I'm going 40 mph in the right lane. Traffic picks up. Twins call from their cell phone...Q: why aren't you guys at the hotel yet? A: still going 45, trying to get your whole family down there, trying to wait for Fr. Pokey.
Finally, our caravan is three vehicles strong. Baby still crying, conversation still boisterous, I kick it up to 70 mph, an eye constantly in the rear view, and find my way to San Pedro. Check family into six hotel rooms, make room assignments, doll out keycards.
[Three days and one wedding later, groom already honeymooning, time to go back.]
Departure from San Pedro, caravan-style once again. Most of family displaced in Baton Rouge, where finding traditional Vietamese food not as easy as doing so down in New Orleans...so a post-wedding trip to Santa Ana night before departure allowed family to buy boxes and boxes of Asian produce, french bread, and other items they miss being shut out of their adopted city. Hence, vans now full of people AND boxes and boxes of stuff.
The terminals are easy this time. First terminal: passengers unload with respective luggage and groceries. Second terminal: passengers unload with respective luggage and groceries. Third terminal: Oregon-bound brother unloads and Nicole takes over jeep driving duties. Back to Dollar. Vans returned. Groom's older brother, Nicole, and I return rented vehicles. Nicole and I drop final relative at terminal. End of story...
Until cell phone communication later reveals the following airport mishap:
Airport officials: you can only check two packages.
Family: we'll check boxes and carry on our suitcases.
Airport officials: your suitcases look too big.
Family: we'll be fine.
Gate officials: your suitcases are too big.
Family: fine, we'll check them and pay the cost of an extra checked bag.
Gate officials: you have to go back to the ticketing area to check additional bags
Two brothers and one brother-in-law walk back to ticketing area. Airline sells their tickets to stand-by passengers. No more flights to Louisiana. Brothers and brother-in-law must fly to Houston and hitch rides with friends back to temporary homes in Louisiana where their respective wives and Santa Ana Vietnamese produce await.
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