Honey, I'm Home!

My bags were packed and I was giddy with excitement. I was going home for 10 days! The only person who knew I was coming was my best friend Melissa. My family has a twisted hobby of seeing who can surprise another person the most with surprise visits. So far Rebekah, my sister, had first place when she flew to Montreal in the dead of night and showed up on my doorstep in spite of a recent snow storm. I was ready to claim my prize by surprising both sets of grandparents, who just happen to live across the street from one another. 

Flying with dad has its perks. He travels so often for work that we all got upgraded to business class which was going to make this 5.5 hour flight much more comfortable. Well, it was supposed to.

4.5 hours, one scalding wet towelette (why do they do that?!), and a 3 course meal later, I was starting to get antsy. Suddenly the seat belt light flashed not once, not twice, but FOUR times. Then the plane jerked a little to the right. And then a lot to the left. And then it dropped a couple hundred feet that left my brain plastered to the back of my skull.

Flight Attendant: Ladies and gentleman, the captain has turned on the seat belt light. Please return to your seats and immediately and stow all personal belongings. We will be experiencing some turbulence due to extreme weather in the area.

Extreme weather. Not storms or wind. Extreme weather. Seriously, how bad could it be? The French business man seated beside me apparently was thinking the same thing because he decided to lift the shade on our window. And then let loose a string of French expletives all related to the Church.

We were surrounded by strobe lights of fork lightening in a pinkish-green tinged sky. You know God, I am all for senses of humour. But when I said I wanted to go back to Montreal, I didn't mean be blown to smithereens 30,000 feet above it. I meant actually foot-still attached to body-step on the ground back in Montreal. After a couple more altitude drops that killed a few thousand brain cells, circling the airport a half dozen times and being shaken like a Polaroid picture, we finally landed.

We raced down to baggage claim to stake a prime spot along the snake-like baggage carousel and waited. And waited, and waited, and waited.

Crackling Voice: Ladies and gentlemen, due to a red alert outside, we are unable to unload baggage from all incoming flights. We appreciate your patients.

Almost two hours later we had our bags, rental car and were on the road. It was 11:30pm and I feared my surprise arrival would have lost some of its zing, but I just wanted to get home. Which turned me into a backseat driver.

Me: Dad, don't take l'Acadie-it floods and there is going to be traffic because of construction. Take the service roads. There, that exit. Okay, now take rue Jarry. You have to turn left.

Dad: Who has been alive longer? Me. Who has driven in this city longer? Me.

Me: I love you...now turn left. 

At exactly 11:50 our car came peeling around the corner of my street, my seatbelt undone and door half open. I didn't even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before I sprinted down the sidewalk, up the stairs and into the arms of my shocked Nonno.

Nonno: Teresa! Teresa! Subito! È Lydia.
Nonna: Ahhh!!! Che bella sorpresa!   (Tranlation: What a beautiful surprise)

After a few more rounds of hugs and kisses, my Nonna takes my face in her hands and says...

Nonna: I thought for sure he was going to surprise us by bringing Matthew.

Yea, love you too Nonna.

Nonno: O! È mezzanotte! Buono Compleanno!  (Translation: Zip it! It's midnight! Happy Birthday!)

With promises to return in the morning, we ran across the street to surprise the second set of Nonna and Nonno, dumped our bags and fell like bricks into bed.