I oozed out the essence of Day One in the previous post. It began at 446PM Eastern at Orlando International and concluded 11 hours and three pounds of sweat later at San Francisco’s airfield. Those woeful kids suffered through an undeserved day of discomfort, exhaustion, and air pressure fluctuations while I suffered doubts over my sanity for putting us all through this. A day on Venus would’ve seemed short in comparison.

That first night we slummed it at the airport Clarion. Still, 15 minutes apiece were spent on the drive there and the haul of luggage from the car to room 404, and another quarter hour on successive trips back to the car for the balance of our baggage. Travelling with kids, I had learned that morning, causes anxiety not only over the kids’ tolerance of the flight, but equally over the capacity of two adults to transport the immense agglomeration of stuff needed to sustain the kids. I had whittled my own accoutrements down to three shirts, two pants, and a camera battery charger. (Fine, I admit, the camera came too, but only because it won out in a coin toss over the underwater binoculars.) The remaining space was reserved for diapers, wet wipes, mush food, toys, books, and a dizzying array of one-piece crotch-snap suits, shorts, pants, jackets, hats, and so on; the kids will travel in style, or won’t travel at all.

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