We should go home now

Something big is changing in my mom's life; the self-proclaimed homebody has asked me to take her traveling for the second time in six months. So we're sitting in the Denver airport right now, and I'm already exhausted from all the things that I see as Bad Travel Omens. After arriving on a late flight to Denver, we were told that we weren't supposed to use my mom's particular pass to overnight and continue on the next morning to Tampa. I had even called the rez line before leaving home to make sure we could use her ticket that way. So now I'm worried that we may be stuck in Denver. And it's COLD. And by now you all know how I feel about the COLD. So that potential mishap aside, we stand outside for 45 minutes waiting for the hotel shuttle (did I mention it was COLD?), and we are about to be left behind for the second time because the shuttle only had one open seat. At the last minute, the driver offers to let me ride in the back with the baggage. So there I sit, hunkered down amongst the backpacks and Samsonites, fearful of being jettisoned out onto the freeway with every road bump, wondering if I should take the shaky start of our mother-daughter trip as a sign of things to come. Once at the hotel, the receptionist (her second day on the job) gives us the wrong room key. Once settled into our room, we both sleep fitfully; I have some awful nightmare about being bitten by a rattlesnake and am alternately directing my own medical care and yelling at the tour guide for not knowing the appropriate snake-bite procedure. By the time we're back at the Denver airport, I'm really nervous about whether my mom will be allowed on the Tampa flight, and I'm distractedly stuffing security passes and ID into my pockets while trying to sweet-talk the ticket agent. My mom leans over, and in a loud stage whisper, says something about imagining my pocket like a bomb, a big explosion, etc. I'm frozen in place, envisioning Mom being interrogated by the airport police for suspicious terrorist activities. Then I realize she's innocently referring to an effective mnemonic device to help me remember where I'm putting my ID so I won't be panicking in the TSA line. She sheepishly realizes how she could sound to fellow travelers and is appropriately embarrassed. But that only lasts a few minutes....somehow she, the passenger that was talking about bombs and explosions, makes it through security with her shoes on. She immediately feels redeemed. I, on the other hand, have nerves so frazzled that I'm ready to head home. TO BE CONTINUED....