Jonnie turned thirty on Thursday.
Here he is, in all his glory.
About all that gear he's rocking?
Don't ask! The child is incorrigible.
He got a bag of Lindor truffles, some cash, a kiss, and a cake from his Mom.
Buttermilk cake with whipped cream mousse frosting.
Drool if you want.
If I didn't know better, I would say he loves his Squeaker more than anything else in the world.
On second thoughts, maybe I don't know better.
As for me and Dear Dolly, we're on our way.
With all our eleven-plus bags
And here we sit in Terminal 4 at Fort Lauderdale Airport, waiting for our early-morning check-in.
A not-very-helpful Haitian porter transported our bags about twenty yards to the shuttle, for which he earned a very handsome (in retrospect) tip.
When we got to Terminal 4 and were off-loaded (with no ceremony) by the Haitian driver (You're killing me, he said) we sat on a bench by the curb in the balmy night air, collecting ourselves and planning a strategy for the night. Our check-in tomorrow is at 3:30am, so we needed to find a place to hang out. We were feeling thrifty after the porter thing, so decided to hunt down some abandoned carts.
Did you know that airport carts cost $4 each nowadays?
After having no luck taking turns wandering the parking lot, we stalked a couple of people with carts and nabbed them (the carts) as soon as they were alone.
Score for us!
If you haven't seen middle-aged women celebrating free luggage carts at the airport, you haven't seen jubilation.
Trust me on that.