The Wedding III

JFK is a nightmare. I love New York, and all things New York, but JFK airport is just one of those things we can all do without.
So we got dropped off at JFK, had to go through security---again---and then board another bus in order to get us out to the tarmac. By the time we get near the plane, I am beginning to watch the clock a little more carefully. We lost more time than expected, and now I'm trying to tell myself we'll still be okay.

Let me just say this: I am a planner. Part of the reason it's hard for me to be a Cop's Wife is that no matter how much you plan...you can't plan around events like crime taking place, and shift changes, and other stupid inconveniences like traffic.
That being said, I was starting to feel my anxiety ramp up and I didn't like the way this latest turn of events was effecting my system. My husband is a lot more even-keeled: I am the one who is infinitely more prone to outbursts.

I gave him a look when we finally settled in to the minuscule seats. I was tired and now I was nervous, and the woman standing in the aisle next to us was rather determined to fit a valise the size of a YAK into the overhead bin.
C'mon, C'mon, C'mon...I began chanting this in my head, as if it would actually make the whole process move a little faster. Eventually we started moving, only to be met with the inevitable announcement:

"This is your Pilot, First Officer Sure-You're-Late and I'm just here to inform you that we are 352nd in line for takeoff. Y'all enjoy the pretzels."

OH. MY. GOD.

We waited on the runway for over an hour. I started wondering if there was a way for him to make up time in the air. I didn't think they had traffic cops at 40,000 feet, but who knew? The NYPD was always looking for a new way to issue tickets...all I knew was that the clock kept ticking, and I had this very funny feeling that maybe we weren't going to make it.