America we have arrived.

The excessive travel time and plane changes went off mostly without a hitch considering a two year old just traveled for almost 30 hours. August was great most of the time. 

There was one melt down though right at the end. Atlanta customs is a complete damn joke. I mean bad. When we finally got through we had missed our connecting flight to Asheville, NC. Fortunately that gave us just enough time to relax a little and get on the next one an hour and a half later. Little did we know that with every extra minute of travel time a storm was brewing both literally and figuratively.

A bark came over the PA system and it was time to board our flight. We had run out of clean milk bottles for August right at the end of our flight into Atlanta. But, he had drunk a lot and gotten a really good nap, and according to schedule it only had to carry him another couple hours at most, no problem; until of course we missed our first flight out of that monster of an airport.

We got on the plane and we were there just long enough to establish that August was not going to take the confines of a seat belt lying down. He’s a little fighter, and I love him for it most of the time. Just when we thought we would take off and get this behemoth trip over with the flight was postponed due to a storm rolling in. So, this is extra time on a long grind through customs after a very long flight plus a missed flight due to the ass clown officers who welcome people to America. BTW thanks a lot for that guys.

A couple beers later we’re finally back on our plane, and we know that August now needs some milk after the extra time. Unfortunately we had no clean bottles, were low on water, and had no soap to make clean bottles. It sucked. August was once again not taking this seat belt thing. He had been wonderful for most of this over sized trip when viewed from a two year old’s eyes. But, he had had enough. He had a meltdown, a complete meltdown. Then our lovely captain announced that we had about a one hour taxi on the runway because the storm backed every flight up.  Now I was about to have a meltdown because the effing stewardess jumps down our throat if August isn’t in his seatbelt. Finally when August’s protests had reached fever pitch some fucktard behind us said, “is he normally like that? Does he need some medication?” I turned around and shot him, seriously, the most evil I will ram a flaming hot, lava rod so far up your ass that your hair will burn off from the roots stare that I’ve ever given anyone, and mouthed, “you fuckin’ idiot” under my breath while shaking my head. But, I didn’t speak to him. I pat myself on the back for that one because that flaming ultra liberal, lets just throw medicine at all our problems ass clown could have received my choicest words in a lot of other situations.

The flight to Waynesville was very short fortunately and August finally cried himself to sleep until we were at my parents house where his precious milk was promptly delivered to an angry stomach. 

I’m glad to be home, despite one real fuck head, and a stupid missed flight. So, who wants to get some Brian time?