So, we took a taxi to the airport. Then we tried to curbside check our luggage, but had to go inside for some reason. We checked our luggage, went upstairs and were headed towards security when Dad stops. "I don't have my bag."

It turns out he was carrying a fanny pack like a dork (instead of wearing one like a dork), and he had left it somewhere. This lady walking by thinks there's something wrong with our carry-ons and tells us that she's a flight attendant and that as long as we can make one of our two bags look like a purse, we're okay. In the meantime, Dad runs off to backtrack. We wait there for about ten minutes and he comes back emptihanded.

Now, Dad was having trouble remembering what was in his man purse - an apple, Rachel's memory card (she was so upset), his iPod (I remembered this had his full name engraved on it which could help us identify it), and some earbuds. The only thing that couldn't be replaced was Rachel's memory card.

We ended up hurrying through security, again and racing to get food before boarding. We got some pizza from California Pizza Kitchen, I believe.

As soon as we boarded, Dad remembered what else was in his bag - our car keys.

The flight home was frustrating. No one seemed to be in a good mood. Some big lady behind Dad fussed at him for moving around alot. The people in front of us were snapping at eachother.

When we arrived in Atlanta, we went to Hertz to rent a car. Rachel and I played golf at the indoor putting/chipping area while we were waiting. Fun way to pass the time.

I forget the model we ended up with... some mid-size SUV (they tried to convince Dad to rent a van, but he refused).

On the way home, we stopped at Chili's to eat. It was either that or Waffle House. But we had a fun time laughing at ourselves over dinner.