Our last day in Cali was eventful to say the least. We spent the morning tying up loose ends, placing a few last minute orders and deciding how on earth we were going to get all the stuff we’d bought back to North Cackalack.
We purchased a
body bag suitcase that we thought would surely hold all of our excess items and made our way back to the hotel. We stuffed our bags, carry ons, and the body bag suitcase to the max and eventhough we got everything to zip, the BB suitcase was so heavy that we could barely get the wheels to turn. I somehow maneuvered that thing down the hall and into the elevator while Caroline waited for a luggage cart to be delivered to our room for our other 4 bags. When I awkwardly stepped into the elevator the two businessmen already on there asked me how many dead bodies were in the bag.
Our sweet cabbie, Gabe, was downstairs waiting for us and he took one look at the bag and said “that bag too heavy.” With help, we loaded it into the back of his Astro van and begged him to run us back down to the Alley where we could get ANOTHER body bag to redistribute the weight. He kindly obliged. We were cutting it close and needed to get to the airport at record speeds. Caroline jumped out of the cab and offered the man selling bags $15 for a smaller version of the body bag, he said “no, 10.” DONE AND DONE. Now that’s my kind of bartering.
In an attempt to make conversation with Gabe, we asked him if he’d ever eaten at In and Out Burger and told him that we’d really wanted to eat there but hadn’t found the time. He said he would take us now but we insisted that we really needed to get to the airport and that we’d go next time we were in town.
Well, low and behold Gabe had other plans for us. A few minutes later and unbeknownst to us, we whip it into In and Out. We were slightly confused and a little nervous about how we’d explain to Nick and Church that we’d missed our flight while consuming a cheeseburger protein style with Gabe. But when in Rome…
We hopped out of the van, ran into In and Out, ordered up a couple burgers and of course, a Double Double for Gabe, snapped this pic and ran out.
We made it to the airport a little late but all in one piece and proceeded through the lines with 6 bags in tow. After another rearrange, every single one of our bags weighed in right at 50 lbs (the limit with Delta). I think I let out an audible sigh of relief.
Our carry ons were heavy as all get out and every time we had to set them down and then pick them up again we had to literally break up the motion into a body-building like routine. I had visible definition in my tricep muscles by the time we reached Atlanta.
Speaking of Atlanta, we decided that a brewski was a necessary reward after toting around those heavy carry ons, so we grabbed one at TGI Fridays in the airport. We’re just catching up (like we haven’t had 4 days to do that), taking our sweet time, enjoying our blue moons, when all of the sudden we hear “last call for Raleigh-Durham airport.” Hope you’re able to get the visual of what takes place after that…
We literally sprint out of the restaurant (after paying of course) carrying our carry on bags like overweight children and RUN—I could barely walk at this point, mind you—to the terminal. Caroline is screaming “WAIT WAIT.” And I am laughing while simultaneously trying not to cry and/or drop my luggage that contains about 40 lbs of jewelry.
We made it. Barely.
Church picked us up from the airport after midnight (thank you times a million for taking us at an ungodly hour in the morning and picking us up so late) and our adventure came to an official end.
Until next time Los Angeles…