It pays to be early

As someone who hates being late, I've never missed a flight in my life. 

My husband and I planned a trip to Turks and Caicos for our 4th wedding anniversary. It's a small island in the Caribbean between Haiti and Jamaica. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 1:55 p.m. Tuesday and we live about 40 minutes from the airport. We left our house a little after 11 a.m. heading to a parking lot near the airport. We leisurely drove to the lot. When we arrived at noon and started pulling out the suitcases from the trunk. I noticed the small travel bag containing all of our regular-size toiletries, the video camera and a couple of other items wasn't in the trunk. This was the only bag we were planning to check. 

We checked the backseat and realized the bag was at home.

We looked at our watches and wondered if we had time to drive home, grab the bag and drive back to the airport without missing our flight.

We decided to try it.

"You have to drive 90 all the way if we're going to do this," I said to my husband.

He didn't mind. We were in my BMW 328i - a car that's designed to be driven fast.

We made it to our exit on the New Jersey Turnpike in record time - about 15 minutes - only to hit a parking lot of traffic after we payed the toll. I started to worry. I called American Airlines to find out if our flight was on time. It was.

"Great!" I said. "When you need your flight to be late, it's not."

We had a layover in Miami. So, I asked if there was another flight to Miami that day. There wasn't.

We got through the traffic and pulled up in front of our home. I ran inside the house, snatched the bag and sprinted back. 

My husband again put the petal to the metal as we headed back to the airport. It was 12:35 p.m.

I didn't say a word during the trip.  I prayed the entire way - prayed that we would make it, that we wouldn't get a ticket and that my husband wouldn't lose control of the car after hitting 100 mph more than a few times.

If we missed the flight, it would delay our trip a day and we'd have to pay for a night at the hotel when we'd be sleeping in our own bed that night.

We got to the parking lot at 1:05 - again record time. We left the keys to the car and the parking lot employee told us the van would be back in two minutes to get us. We stepped outside to wait for the van. There was another man also waiting. My husband asked if he had been waiting long.

"About five minutes. Even though the guy inside said the van would be here in two minutes. And I'm in a rush," he said.

"We're rushing, too," I said. "What time is your flight?"

"2:15 p.m.," the man said.

"We're 1:55 p.m.," I replied, thinking what I would give for a 2:15 p.m. flight right now.

When the van pulled up. I told the driver that we were all rushing.

We got to the airport at 1:15 p.m. 

I went to a kiosk and started checking in, but got a notice that we were checking in too late and we should see an agent.  

"Ugh," I screamed.

I turned around and noticed about 10 people in line waiting to check in with the agent. 

"We have a 1:55 flight. Do you mind if we go next?" I asked. 

No one objected. Thank God.

The agent overrode the computer, but said it was too late to check any bags.

"You have to get rid of your liquids," she said.

"The bag is full of liquids," I said.

"Do you want to go or do you want your liquids," she asked.

We immediately started throwing out our full-sized liquids. Shampoo, conditioner, shaving gel, face scrub, mouse, sunblock. It was ironic since we went home to get the bag with the liquids that we ended up throwing them out.

The agent issued the tickets, I thanked the folks in line again and we ran to security.

While in line, I noticed that my husband's boarding pass had the wrong name it - Cara. 

"Just act natural. Don't say anything and maybe he won't noticed. We don't have time to go back," I said.

My husband handed the security agent his passport and boarding pass.

"I think you handed me your wife's," the agent said, after noticing a woman's name on the paper.

The agent looked at my boarding pass, looking for a man's name, and when he didn't find one, he informed my husband that he had to go back to the ticket agent.

"You go through security," my husband said. "I'll catch up with you."

"I'm not getting on the plane without you," I said.

At this point, I started freaking out all over again as I pictured the plane taking off without us. 

I was halfway through the security screening line, when I turned around to see my husband running to join me with his new ticket.

We made it through security, but weren't in the clear yet - we still had to get to the gate.

I've always thought it was kind of funny to see people running through the airport like their life depended on it. Now, it was our turn.

Thank God I had spent the last month running four miles a day to get bikini ready. It prepared me for the sprint through the airport. We were flying. People were laughing, telling us to slow down and getting out of our way. It was crazy.

We got to the gate and were met with a smiling agent who looked like she knew what we had just gone through to make to the gate. She gladly scanned our tickets and we boarded the plane.

Whew! We barely made it!