by Denise Calaman

Created on: November 19, 2008   Last Updated: November 24, 2008

Air travel is always an adventure for us. Returning from Florida, my husband and I had an early morning flight bound for the Charlotte, NC airport for a brief layover. By the time our plane landed they were pre boarding our next flight.

In no particular hurry I used the ladies room at gate C-15 before heading to gate A-1. When my husband and I got to gate A-1, we were pleasantly surprised that they were calling for boarding right on time. However we knew that it would be awhile before we got our chance to cram onto the flying sardine can. We put down our three suitcases, two carry-ons, my purse, a newspaper, my laptop, two winter coats, and a bag of souvenirs and a BIG beautiful plant that I bought at a Florida nursery that my husband said that I definitely wouldn't be able to take on the plane.

"I can so take it home. I called the airline. I can put it under my seat."

"Not when they see how big it is." My husband just shook his head. "Well I'm not carrying it. That thing is UGLY!"

"It is not." I said. "It's a gorgeous tropical plant."

"May I remind you that we live in Pennsylvania? And it was snowing when we left."

"I'll keep it indoors in the winter."

"Well, I'm still not carrying it."

Finally relieved of my baggage, I looked for our boarding passes in my purse while my husband eyed a Cinnabon next door to our departure gate. He is an absolute Cinnabon junky and makes our travel arrangements accordingly. We don't often fly out of an airport that doesn't have a Cinnabon.

"I didn't know the Charlotte airport had a Cinnabon," he said with his I gotta have a Cinnabon' stare.

"What, I didn't hear you," I replied. I was elbow deep in my purse looking for our boarding passes. Suddenly it dawned on me as we were called for boarding that I have left the boarding passes in the ladies room at gate C-15. I could see the flames shooting out of my husband's nose and ears.

"I can make it, I promise." Now even though my husband is the Cinnabon eater, I'm the one that looks like I dine there more than I should, so running all the way to one side of the airport and back again is no easy feat. I ran so fast through the Charlotte airport that everyone that I was passing was a blur. I flung open the ladies room door and I noticed that there are 156 stalls for the six women passengers that fly out of Charlotte every day.

I raided every stall frantically looking for our boarding passes. I grabbed the bathroom attendant by the shoulders shaking her still out of breath from running the

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