I got to the agency a little early, and figuring that I'd probably get yelled at if I tried to go in I walked past it for a block or so, scoping out restaurants nearby. If indeed the passports weren't going to be ready we'd need someplace to eat lunch. I found a couple of likely looking places, and then walked back, entering the agency right on time.

As it turns out, apparently nobody minds if you show up for this part of the process early (you're warned not to show up early for your first appointment), as there's a line stretching from the pick-up window in the back of the building almost out to the door.

I take my place in it and wait. And wait.

In the end the wait wasn't really that long, even though it seemed like an eternity at the time. By the time I got to the window my heart was literally in my mouth. I handed over the receipt and the clerk turned around and shuffled through some files and presented me with two lovely sealed white envelopes, each containing a new and now cancelled old passport.

The clerk warned me look and make sure they looked okay, and I did, though I'm sure what I'd have done if I'd noticed an error. Probably ignore it and wait until we'd returned to address it. Shhh, don't tell the State Department I said that.

It wasn't yet noon, so I hustled back to the hotel just as quickly as my feet would carry me.

I entered the lobby of the Loew's Madison traveling at close to light speed and picked up the house phone to call our room. My son answered.

Me: I've got them. Get the bags and come downstairs IMMEDIATELY. And I mean now, right now, this very second. Have your sister run ahead and call the elevator.

Him: Okay.

While they came downstairs I went out to have the bellman call a cab and the trunk was open and waiting when they walked out the door. We waved cheerful good-byes to the obliging hotel staff.

I told the driver "National, and hurry." I wanted to say "And step on it" but he wasn't a native English speaker and this wasn't the moment to be giving anybody lessons on American vernacular.

Our cab driver turned out to be a very young man, and didn't dawdle. There was a moment where we'd stopped for a traffic light and I took advantage of the pause to photograph the lovely pink cherry blossoms. He very obligingly pulled over to let me take another photo and I didn't have the heart to tell him never mind. I did, however, refuse his kind offer to make a scenic detour for a few more photo ops.

We got to the airport a few minutes about 15 minute after noon, and I just about leaped from the moving cab so as to run in and slam my SkyMiles card into a kiosk and check us all in. Boarding passes for the DCA-ATL flight in hand, I then tried to check in for the ATL-AMS flight. No luck, the kiosk couldn't find it.

So then I asked the Delta agent manning the luggage check if she could do it, and she consulted with a colleague and they decided I'd have to go to the ticket counter. There was a line there, though, and they said that I could also go out to the Delta gates and talk to somebody there.

So that's what we decided to do, and we headed for security.

Can anybody tell me what happened at security?

Here's a hint: DCA's a pretty small airport, and there are several different security areas. So the people that work there aren't necessarily all that busy (unlike my home airport, ATL). So they've got time to notice the little details...

The little details like whether or not you've signed your passport. Which of course my children hadn't yet, as they hadn't even been in the same room with them yet (unless you counted barreling down the highway in a taxi cab). Signing them in the moving car seemed like a bad idea.

So we get to security and present our idenfication and the TSA (I assume he was TSA) notices. And I realize the issue at exactly the same moment and point out that we'd only just barely gotten them. That they were, in fact, still a bit warm.

He laughed and let us go. It could potentially have been a problem, but wasn't.

So we walk to our gate, find seats to park our selves and our luggage, and I send my husband and son off get sandwiches for everybody. Fortunately there's a food court right there, so they didn't have to go far.

It's now about 12:25. Our flight should be boarding soon.

The best story I've read here in a while . . .

Thanks, Brian.

Stay tuned, as it sounds like it's over, but it's not.

My daughter and I are now seated comfortably in the gate area. This is the first opportunity we've had to do anything more than nod at each other in passing, so she strikes up a conversation.

Her: Well, that was pretty exciting, wasn't it?

Me: Yep, pretty exciting.

Her: But we're pretty much home free now, right? I mean, what can go wrong? All we have to do is get on the plane to Atlanta and we'll be there before we know it.

Me: Well, no, actually. There's all sorts of things that can go wrong. There could be bad weather here or in Atlanta, or there could have been bad weather at another airport that prevented another plane from arriving and our plane might be diverted to accomodate those passengers. Or our plane could go mechanical, or a passenger could get sick or...well, you see what I mean.

Her: Oh.

About this time I notice that we're being addressed by the gate agent. I pay attention.

"The little details like whether or not you've signed your passport. Which of course my children hadn't yet, as they hadn't even been in the same room with them yet (unless you counted barreling down the highway in a taxi cab). Signing them in the moving car seemed like a bad idea. "

Error number 1 in this whole saga. Why give the TSA agents anything for the kids?

Since you are being addressed by the gate agent, it's not going to be great, but I have a bet that DL MIGHT merge this mess. (I say that because my mother somehow managed to check luggage from TYS to Peru on two tickets. One FF from TYS to Atlanta that I gave her and one tour company ticket from ATL to Lima!)

The announcement is a fairly innocous one, just a gate change. And the since the Delta gates at DCA are clustered together at the end of a sort cul-de-sac we just move over a couple. Since my husband and son are still off getting sandwiches my daughter and I handle moving the luggage ourselves, and then I send my daughter off to find her father so that he doesn't go looking for us at the first gate.

He and my son eventually show up with provisions. I'd figured we'd be eating on the plane, but it's now time for departure and we've not even started boarding, so we start eating.

We finish eating, and throw away our trash. No specific information other than perhaps an apology for the delay.

And then, finally, some news. And as it turns out, my list of "things that can wrong" was not as all-inclusive as you might have imagined. Because one of the things that I hadn't mentioned was precisely what was occurring: a ground stop at ATL. Ground stops are typically associated with bad weather, and the general idea is to avoid gridlock at an airport. If for some reason the planes can't take off from a particular airport, there's no place to put (and unload) arriving flights, so a ground stop is called and flights that are destined for that airport are not permitted to take off (or may be directed to another airport if already en route).

Ground stops in Atlanta are most common in the summer, though, when we get these very exciting thunderstorms. But this was April, and I knew that weather wasn't likely to be an issue.

Turns out that a plane had gone mechanical while taxi-ing (either in or out, I don't know). And it had done it in such a way that it had managed to block not just one but two of the runways (or if not block render essentially useless). So we had to wait for that plane to either be repaired or towed.

Suddenly our nice little time cushion is looking like it won't be quite as fluffy as I'd figured. A visit to the Crowne Room seems less and less likely.

"Error number 1 in this whole saga. Why give the TSA agents anything for the kids?"

Both of my kids look plenty old enough to need ID. My daughter is taller than me (and I'm 5'6") and wears my clothes. My son is 6'2".

Tick tock, tick tock.

Delta's keeping us posted about the ground hold, so that's good, but I've got a couple of problems now.

1. Will we get there in time for the AMS departure at 5:15 PM?

Well, I hope so. Chance are good that the ground stop will so screw up the schedule that the AMS flight will be delayed.

2. Even if we do get there, will they let us on the plane?

No problem if we're checked in, of course, but possibly a big problem if we're not. So I get busy obtaining boarding passes for the flight.

And this, apparently, is not possible. The gate agents are, of course, very busy, but I do finally manage to find somebody (seems like this was a re-ticketing desk, but I'm not sure) who understands the issue and should be able to help. Except that they can't, or if they can they don't know that they can. In the end I'm told "we can't print boarding passes for an itinerary that starts at an airport other than DCA." But they do reassure me, saying that it should all be fine.

So now I'm trying to decide whether I should try and track down a business center (no laptop for either me or my husband this trip) and check in on-line now that I have the kids' passports. Except that I know we're going to board the very second that the ground hold is lifted, and where I want to be at that moment is in a business center someplace.

If I'd had my wits about me I'd have called a friend and had her go on-line and check us in while I read the passport numbers to her over the phone, but I didn't.

Tick tock.

See you are nicer then I am. WHat if they hadn't had passports or ID? Under 18 isn't required. (I am of the theory that I don't give the TSA ANYTHING more then they HAVE to have espeically at places outside of ATL. ATL they are too busy to create issues, anyplace else......All bets are off!)

When it comes to TSA (and pretty much anybody who has the authority to screw up my life, even if they shouldn't have it) I just do what I'm told and keep the lowest possible profile.

Finally, the ground hold is lifted and we are given permission to take off. Wheels up at about 3:00 and I'm now thinking back to my conversation with the SMS agent on the phone earlier that day where I'm telling her that I could, in fact, make it from A to E in under 20 minutes. A ridiculous thing to even consider, of course, as what sort of person would need to do this?

We're in the first class cabin on this flight. This is very important for two reasons. The first is that we'll be first off the plane.

What's the second?

Free cocktails?

"Free cocktails?"

Seconded!

Yep, free cocktails and plenty of them.

Well, two, actually, both of them pomegranate martinis. The first one was purely for medicinal purposes, frankly. The second was more along the lines of "well, why not?"

I don't recall now if my husband had one or two.

I took the opportunity to explain our timing problem to the flight attendant, asking if there was any way of contacting the gate for the AMS flight (once it was open) and letting them know we were en route. She said no, but assured us (gaily) that it would be fine. Well, it would or it wouldn't, but I wasn't going to let it worry me. And those two martinis really helped. I asked if she knew if there any of those little self check-in kiosks near the gate we'd be using, but she didn't know.

We make good time in the air, and the taxi into the gate is without delay (so the ground hold did serve its purpose), and we hopped out of our seats the very second the seatbelt light went off.

Bursting from the plane and up the jetway, we step foot into the airport at 4:47. Our flight is due to depart at 5:15. I do spy a check-in kiosk, and in hopes that the departure time's been updated to reflect a delay I try to check-in, but of course it's closed.

So now it's time to run, and run we do. We make it to the gate in well under 20 minutes, and as we approach I am relieved to see that boarding's not yet started, so the flight has been at least somewhat delayed.

I approach the gate, where the agents working are two men who do not appear to be pissed off at the world, so that's good. And it turns out that they are Dutch, which is also good as Dutch people (in my experience) tend to be pretty reasonable and pretty easy-going.

Here's the conversation.

Me: Hi. My family and I are booked on this flight, but we haven't checked in and we don't have boarding passes.

[For those of you who haven't thought about this scenario before, this is the equivalent of saying "we are aliens from planet X and we have just landed on your planet". Because you simply can't get to a gate without a boarding pass.]

Him: Um, what? How did you...

Me: We've just arrived from DCA... (and I give him a brief summary of the situation).

Him (smiling): No problem.

He leans over to his colleague and murmurs "Don't give away those emergency exit row seats." I glance over and realize that he's murmuring because the possible beneficiaries of those seats (which I'd booked months previously) were standing right next to us, a couple of tall Dutch guys.

I'd booked my son into an emergency exit row on the other side of the plane, and my daughter in a non-exit row seat (as she was too young for the exit row). My son's seat was gone, so he gave them bulkhead seats together in the front cabin.

We took off maybe 30 minutes late.

It was a lovely flight.