Day 1: Airplane!

Let me preface this by saying that I hate waking up. Good way to avoid the unpleasantness of waking up? Not going to sleep. This was the logic that informed our decision to not sleep the night prior to leaving. In all honesty, it DID make sense; after all, the flight left at six something in the morning, so, with the supposedly necessary two hour window to get through security and have time to make it to the arrival gate, we would have needed to arrive at the airport at no later than four thirty. Which would mean leaving the house at the ungodly hour of three thirty. So, maybe finishing our packing and getting every last little detail ready for the trip and then sleeping on the plane wasn't a bad idea.

Fast forward to four o'clock. We are all showered and clean and on our way down to John Wayne Airport. It all seems simple enough. 

1. There are road signs to indicate an airport.
2. We are intelligent adults.
3. We should be able to follow aforementioned signs and find the airport, drop off the car and get to our plane in an orderly manner.

This was not the case. The signs decided to stop all of a sudden leaving us in the middle of nowhere. There are no planes in the air to guide us, being four am and all, but we were able to put together a bit of faith, hope and pixie dust and found the airport, and after only one quick loop of the facility, we had the car parked in the long term lot. 

The long term lot at John Wayne is located a few miles from the actual airport and a shuttle is required to take you to the terminals. We, of course, are standing at the stop, alone, and bundled in coats and layers when the majestic coach arrives. We climb onboard and I find myself sitting next to a puppy. I want a puppy. Therefore, the short jaunt to the actual airport sticks out in my head as PUPPY. As far as I am concerned, that was all that happened. It's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Anyway, we arrived at the terminal that housed the Southwest flights and disembark (Goodbye, puppy!). We then follow a labyrinth of poles and ropes and find ourselves right behind the only other person that seems to be haunting the airport at that particular hour of the morning. Turns out, security wasn't even open yet, so we had to wait.  And wait we did. I think Lauren ventured off to take random pictures of the airport for our photographic record and I stood there, talking football with the other guy in line.

Finally, security opened and we got through with no trouble, bags still intact and shoes back on the feet. We went over to the Southwest area and, again, were the first ones there. We sat around for at least forty five minutes and then ventured our way over to the newsstand. I grabbed a few magazines and a candy bar, and Lauren made me buy a horribly tacky postcard featuring John Wayne to eventually mail to her brother and we trudged over to the treat that was a McDonald's breakfast. 

I love McDonald's breakfast. Give me a sausage biscuit and a Hi-C orange soda and I am happy as a pig in slop. Ironic? Probably. I had a few of those and Lauren had the standard "Egg" McMuffin. We headed over to Southwest again, and staked out a spot on the floor. We were in one of the first boarding groups, so sitting together was not a real issue. The flight to Phoenix was only an hour or so and that zoomed by, with us "shopping" through SkyMall and listening to iPods.