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The Forty Five Minute Rule

It’s always fun traveling with my sister Mary, she is my glamour sister, so we always get lots of attention when she is around.
But when traveling with Mary you need to be ready to run if you want to be on time to anything,there is always someone who wants her attention, and because she is so kind and will never tell anyone she is in a hurry, we always wind up being late. Last year on our way to my cousins wedding, we arrived just as the gate agent had her hand on the door to close the gate.
This year on our way to my nieces wedding we arrived at the airport to check our luggage, and the American Airlines ticket agent told us the new rule for checked bags was now 45 minutes and we had missed it by 2 minutes. “How are we going to fix this,” I asked the stern looking woman behind the counter. She glanced at our bags and pointed to my medium size bag. “You can probably get that to the gate,” but then pointing to the larger pink bag she just laughed, “that one, no way.”
The contents of my bag were pretty sparse so, I jumped down on the ground and started shoving everything from Mary’s suitcase into mine. My determination seemed to melt the ticket agents heart realizing I was serious about getting on the flight, I have a plastic bag that I think may fit some of your things. Mary took the bag packing more items . “What will you do with the big suitcase, you cant just leave it here?” The lady said, stepping away from it as though it was contaminated. I grabbed my phone and called my daughter Kat who said she would come right back, and like an episode of Bewitched she was suddenly there, looking nervous but determined, “I’m double parked” she said, “what do you need me to take?” The ticket agent looked perplexed, “how did she get here so quickly.” But we had no time to answer. Kat grabbed the large suitcase and what was left in it and ran out of the airport to try and save my car from being ticketed or towed.
The gate agent went from stern to cheerleader, “I will call the gate and let them know your coming.” She said with excitement in her voice.
At security the woman in front of us was unaware that you needed an ID, she was digging through a purse that was the size of my suitcase as though she had all the time in the world. I was next in line, and the security guard looked at me with sympathy, Probably thinking we were running late, or had to use the restroom as I was fidgeting nervously, with our flight now less then 20 minutes from departure. ¬†Giving me the come here signal, and I ran over with my boarding pass and ID, “wrong airport”, she said. Embarrassed I looked at the woman who was still shuffling through her bag looking for an ID, my sister handed me the correct pass, I handed it to the security guard, who took it immediately. I am sure she did not want to be the person who had to clean up after me, if my nervous shaking was because I needed to use the restroom.
As we threw our belongings on the screening belt, I realized we looked like we were homeless, a full plastic bag, my backpack and purse stuffed with clothing, and my suitcase looking like it would burst at any moment. Don’t even put on your shoes, I told Mary after the TSA agent gave her a little over zealous pat down. We grabbed our bags and ran to the end of the terminal to our gate where the last stragglers were boarding.
“That bag will need to be checked” the gate agent said as she put a tag on it then placed it on a cart then looked at my sister and I with our assortment of bags and shook her head before taking our boarding passes.
Once on the plane Mary and I flopped into our seat, thankful to have arrived on time.
“That was a close one Mary” I said as I went through my belongings to try and make some sense of what was where, hoping that I had not left a trail of underwear behind me.
We put our menagerie of bags in the over head compartment and looked out the window just in time to see my colorful bag go into the luggage compartment below us. “Another near miss, but at least we were on board heading towards our adventure in Arizona.