I went out earlier than usual for my morning run: I wanted to be out and back early so I could spend some time with my husband before he went to work. Today, I fly to Sicily. Because, in the words of my husband, I’m a 'totally insane screaming Stress-head when I have to fly,' I have to get everything ready well before my taxi comes, so that I can check it and then re-check it like a dribbling OCD sufferer. I arrived at the airport about 4 hours before the flight, just like my Sicilian parents. My dad was really bad. I remember being at the airport 7 hours before. His reason was always “just in case”.. i do laugh about it, but not so much now. Three years ago I missed a flight. Ever since then, I don’t care what anyone thinks, I’m getting there early. I have to take a Valium before I fly. The Rosary is not enough.
I spoke to Carmelo. He said "Have you done the chicken?"
I replied, "We'll eat at the airport, I'm usually too anxious to eat a lot and Elizabeth will just want simple food."
"No," he said, "the chicken!"
"What chicken?" I asked, now really puzzled. Was there some special recipe he needed posting, or some detail a supplier was asking about, that I didn't know of?
He spoke slowly, like he was addressing an idiot, "The-check-in!"