Oops

This is the last page of a longer story from the past.

Amy, K'Leena and I had been sightseeing in Washington DC for 8 or 9 days.  We stayed in Virginia in a hotel with a complete kitchen.  The shuttle from the hotel took us to catch the Metro into Washington DC each day.  We were scheduled to fly out on Monday, which happened to be Labor Day.

United States Capitol

K'Leena, Amy, Jeanette Washington Monument

Amy at Mt. Vernon

K'Leena, Amy.  White House

 "You don't have to blab to everyone that we went to the wrong airport," Amy scolds, "the stationmaster, the lady sitting next to you on the bus, Dad, Brent, Aunt Verla. . ."

"It's our best story and I can't tell it?  I guess I can't tell them that you left your wallet on the counter either. . ."

Because it was Labor Day, the shuttle and the metro didn't open until 7 AM.  Our plane left at 7:50 AM.  We had called a taxi, which was to cost around $25, unless it was more with the price of gas going up.  For some unknown reason the shuttle driver showed up at 6 when we went down to wait for the taxi.  He said that he thought we could make it since we were only 8 miles from the airport if he took us over at 7 and we caught the first metro.  He agreed to take us over at 6:45 so we cancelled the taxi.  Serves him right for being late.  The nice shuttle driver took us over around 6:40.  We had 7-day passes for the metro but Amy had thrown hers away.  K'Leena and I had ours.  Picking up a key at the front desk, I went back up to our room to scrounge for her pass.  In the bottom of the last garbage can I looked in, I found it.  We caught the metro about 7:07 and got to the airport around 7:25.  That's cutting it pretty close.  We can't find Delta.  We rush here, we rush there, we ask Traveler's Aid, and finally find Check-in. 
     "We have no plane leaving for Salt Lake City at 7:50.  Are you sure it's Delta?"

"Positive."  Amy handed her our computer printout.

"You're at the wrong airport."

We were at the same airport we came in on.

Arrival  Washington DC (DCA); Departure Washington DC (IAD).  Washington DC was in bold.  The initials that don't mean a thing to us were underneath in small print.  Dulles is 38 miles away.

“You can't make it.”  She called them on the phone.  They had already given our seats away.  Click.  Click.  Click.  She mulls and tries this and that.  Who knows what she's doing?

“It will cost you each $216 to transfer to this airport.  Dulles has a direct flight to Salt Lake at 3:12 in the afternoon.  I suggest you do that.  I will waive the $25 fee.  You can take a taxi or the airport shuttle; check to see which is cheaper."

We decide to try the metro.  The stationmaster told us where to get off to catch a metro bus for the airport.  While we are waiting for the metrorail--Blue to Rosslyn--Amy's name was called over the loudspeaker.  She had left her wallet at the Check-in counter.

The bus comes every hour on a holiday.  We didn't have to wait much longer than 1/2 hour.  Sixty cents for seniors; $3 each for Amy and K'Leena.

I can't believe I got clear out to Dulles for sixty cents from our hotel; and since I didn’t have any change,  K'Leena paid that.  That was the best part.  It easily could have cost $100.

They told us to be two hours early.  We were six hours early and that was just fine.

     It was a beautiful and interesting ride out and a relaxing day at the airport.

Dulles Airport

And I can’t tell this story to a soul?

I can’t tell the stationmaster, the lady sitting next to me on the bus, Dad, Brent, Aunt Verla. . .  I can’t even tell you.