I rise bright and early at 6:30am, make some coffee, shower, and do all the normal stuff one would do before a trip. Though this is the farthest from any normal trip I have ever been on. I feel OK at this point because although it wasn’t an uninterrupted night of sleep, I at least got a good couple hours of shut-eye. I check out and sit outside to wait for my taxi to arrive at 8am. While sitting there I have a nice conversation with an old retired navy man named Tom. Tom tells me about all his travels and I try very hard to listen to him, but the butterflies start to creep up and that little voice inside me starts to remind me of all the craziness that lies ahead of me. My cab arrives and Tom sends me off with a good luck and a fist bump (he probably thought that was the appropriate send-off seeing as how I smell like Old Spice). In any other situation I would have laughed out loud to myself about the old guy fist bump, but the impending heart attack Gibbs is likely to have at the sight of another plane has crowded my head.
We arrive at the kennel a few minutes later. I shove some pills in Gibbs’ mouth and contemplate taking one myself, collect my furry package, say our good lucks and good byes and make our way to the airport. I hope so much that he would be asleep by the time we reached the airport. If anything he seems more excited. Did I give him the wrong pills??? I check-in with no problems and decide to have my bag sent all the way to Athens so I do not have to deal with it on my layover.
Of course, my bag is overweight and it cost 70,00 Euro extra (about $100). Then, they put Gibbs on the scale! My delicate little flower cost a whopping 238,00 Euros!! That’s about $330. This trip is really starting to add up...one pound at a time! While we wait to board, we step outside to calm down...Gibbs is very much for this idea. I’m sure he was hoping that we were leaving! As we are walking around, everyone points and smiles and loves him. Apparently, Gibbs is quite the looker! He actually even got his picture taken. Move over Lassie!
As time moves on, the breathing gets heavier and heavier and it seems the pills are not doing anything. Cut to me...UH-OH.
They call for our flight and Gibbs is in FULL panic mode. The airport employees see this (he’s like a 4-legged train wreck in process) and help as best they can to allow me to stay with him until the last possible minute. And it was literally in that last minute that I had to sprint to catch the bus to take me to the plane.
We are now in flight and all that gives me any comfort is that we’re only in the air for 2 hours. That’s 3 1/2 hours less than the first flight, so maybe his reaction to the flight won’t be as bad. Here’s hoping. I am offered lunch, but politely decline as it smells like feet (more foreshadowing) and makes me want to gag.
We land in Lisbon and de-plane. The other passengers are all very concerned and checking in with me to see if I have seen Gibbs yet. At this point he is a bit of a minor celebrity. I say no, and try to make my way to find my crate o’ puppy. I locate the area and wait patiently for my pup. He comes out looking just about the same as when I left him, but he’s breathing way too hard. I knew it wouldn’t be long until he turns into a one big slobbering, gasping mess.
When I was at the Lajes airport, the nice lady told me there was a vet located in the Lisbon Airport (I think she knew I’d need it) and it was just my luck that the office was right where I picked up Gibbs!! Yeah, not so much. No one at the airport knew of this phantom vet, so I’m forced to make my way to the ticket counter of the airline I was using to ask for assistance. All the while, everyone is staring and peeking in the cage at Gibbs who is starting to foam and wheeze. CUJO!
Now one would think that elevators are a pretty standard piece of equipment no matter where you are. Up and Down. Easy peasy. Apparently, Portuguese elevators are different. The only way they could be anymore different is if they went sideways. I hit the button for the 4th floor and somehow end up visiting the basement level three times before making it to the 4th floor. When I finally get to the ticket counter, they find the phantom vet’s phone and call. He cannot help me. So, I take a peek at Gibbs and decide I need a vet or there is no way he will make it to Athens still breathing.
The nice, very cute boy at the counter hands me the address of the nearest vet. I make my way to the taxi line and OH MY GOD!! It is a mile long. I think, What Would Myra Do??? I find a young man who in turn gets the Policia and the next thing I know, I am in a cab and being whisked away, off to the vet. No line for me!!
I get ripped off by the taxi driver who must’ve mistaken me for an independently wealthy American, but am too anxious to argue...plus, I haven’t really brushed up on my Portuguese swear words! I make my way up the two flights of stairs with Gibbs in one hand and his kennel in the other. I realize upon entering that we got there at the perfect moment of 2:58pm. The vet closes at 3 and reopens at 4. Gotta love Siesta! They stare at me and take one look at Gibbs and allow us in.
I’ll start by saying, the ladies I’m about to spend the rest of my day with turn out to be some of the nicest people I have ever met, and of course they love, love, love Gibbs. The cost of this vet trip will probably be the best 50,00 Euros I will ever spend, as I will always remember and be grateful to Vanessa, Rita and Victoria for taking in a grandpa smelling American and her neurotic bulldog.
After my initial moment of going all Terms of Endearment-- GIVE MY DOG THE SHOT!!!!-- it is decided I will stay with them until I need to be back at the airport for our next flight. They actually end up giving Gibbs a few shots-- of what I have no idea. And most likely I will never know as there is a bit of a language gap. For all I know, it could’ve been crack! I do, however, understand when one of the girls says “coffee.” Yes! I would love some! Bless her heart, she comes back with a thimble of the strongest coffee I have ever tasted. My first, real, European coffee! And also, I am now fully alert!!
We are put in the surgery room to hang out since it will not be in use for the day.
Around 5pm, Gibbs gives up and starts to really settle down and close his eyes. We still have about 2 hours until we give him his new pills for the flight. This is about the time when I start to feel a little antsy. Time awake: just shy of 10 hours Food intake: thimble of coffee and tiny sliver of cake.
Finally, 7:30 pm arrives and we shove the pills down Gibbs’ mouth. Again, I contemplate taking one for myself!
Now hang in here with me for a moment, I want to set up this next scene:
Have you seen the video of the drunk guy at Coachella trying to put on his flip flop, but just can’t get it?? ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Au_8GMUxVs ) Well, that's Gibbs! He starts teeter-tottering and all I can think is "Thank God!!" He is a very drunk doggie. After six hours of heavy panting and foaming at the mouth, I'm ready for some peace and quiet. (Note: Gibbs has now been clean and sober for more than 48 hours. A 12-step program may be in his future).
I lift this very stoned, 65lb bulldog into his kennel and start our good byes. After many thanks and hugs, Rita helps me down to the street with Gibbs in the kennel because his legs might as well be made out of jello at this point.
The taxi man is waiting and we make our way down the first flight of steps with me leading around the corner then...OH NO! I am flying through the air and come crashing down on my hip, then slide a few steps more for good measure. Rita screams while luckily still holding on to Gibbs’ cage as I regain my footing and get up. The taxi man and another gentleman see our struggle and come to help.
I shake off what I can and take a peek at “the dog”. At this point, he is “just a dog” to me and I am pretty sure, in his near comatose state, he is completely unaware of what just happened. After another taxi is called to come because the dog won’t fit in the first taxi, I am now on my way back to the airport with a hurting back, bruised leg, and a raging envy for whatever drugs Gibbs is on.
Back at the airport, I load my snoring dog on a cart and find my way to the check-in counter. Again, I get the nicest people to help me with this. I then find out it is going to cost another 200,00 Euros ($275) to get the dog to Athens. Oh, and I also need to take him to oversized luggage for the flight that is now only 2 hours away.
At this point I decide it is time for a beer!! So that’s what I do!! I manage to suck down the warmest Becks beer ever and eat the remaining combos from the Lajes commissary. This is all the “nutrition” that will carry me through until 5:30 the next morning. (Side note: Had I remembered I had them... Yes! I would have totally eaten the remaining combos about 5 hours earlier.)
Slowly, the airport gets quiet and I realize I am on one of the last flights to leave. I make my way to drop off Gibbs to his exit and am told I need to remove my dog so the kennel can go through the x-ray. WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me? No. In fact they are quite serious about this and it’s clear from their faces any sarcasm I was considering would not be well-received.
So now I have to dead lift (and I do mean dead lift) my limp, 65lb dog with my now gimpy left leg, screaming back, and woozy head (warm beer, empty stomach) and carry him for what in my mind was a mile to wait for the kennel to clear x-ray. So, I sit and wait as a river of drool washes over me (his drool, not mine). Finally they bring the cage back. Shocker, it’s ok. All clear! After I put the dog back in the cage, I realize I’ve just had my very first ever feeling of bloodlust.
At long last I am in my seat waiting for my flight that is only a short 55 minutes...
40 minutes...
20 minutes...
15 minutes...
5 minutes away.
Finally! Headed for Athens. I decline dinner because again, it makes me gag. I will not bore you with the in-flight details as they will make me sound very spoiled, but SHIT! That girl TOTALLY took up two seats and slept on my shoulder for way longer than was appropriate! Just sayin’.
Day 3 going on 4 almost over. Can’t wait to have my feet back on solid ground.
We arrive at the kennel a few minutes later. I shove some pills in Gibbs’ mouth and contemplate taking one myself, collect my furry package, say our good lucks and good byes and make our way to the airport. I hope so much that he would be asleep by the time we reached the airport. If anything he seems more excited. Did I give him the wrong pills??? I check-in with no problems and decide to have my bag sent all the way to Athens so I do not have to deal with it on my layover.
Of course, my bag is overweight and it cost 70,00 Euro extra (about $100). Then, they put Gibbs on the scale! My delicate little flower cost a whopping 238,00 Euros!! That’s about $330. This trip is really starting to add up...one pound at a time! While we wait to board, we step outside to calm down...Gibbs is very much for this idea. I’m sure he was hoping that we were leaving! As we are walking around, everyone points and smiles and loves him. Apparently, Gibbs is quite the looker! He actually even got his picture taken. Move over Lassie!
As time moves on, the breathing gets heavier and heavier and it seems the pills are not doing anything. Cut to me...UH-OH.
They call for our flight and Gibbs is in FULL panic mode. The airport employees see this (he’s like a 4-legged train wreck in process) and help as best they can to allow me to stay with him until the last possible minute. And it was literally in that last minute that I had to sprint to catch the bus to take me to the plane.
We are now in flight and all that gives me any comfort is that we’re only in the air for 2 hours. That’s 3 1/2 hours less than the first flight, so maybe his reaction to the flight won’t be as bad. Here’s hoping. I am offered lunch, but politely decline as it smells like feet (more foreshadowing) and makes me want to gag.
We land in Lisbon and de-plane. The other passengers are all very concerned and checking in with me to see if I have seen Gibbs yet. At this point he is a bit of a minor celebrity. I say no, and try to make my way to find my crate o’ puppy. I locate the area and wait patiently for my pup. He comes out looking just about the same as when I left him, but he’s breathing way too hard. I knew it wouldn’t be long until he turns into a one big slobbering, gasping mess.
When I was at the Lajes airport, the nice lady told me there was a vet located in the Lisbon Airport (I think she knew I’d need it) and it was just my luck that the office was right where I picked up Gibbs!! Yeah, not so much. No one at the airport knew of this phantom vet, so I’m forced to make my way to the ticket counter of the airline I was using to ask for assistance. All the while, everyone is staring and peeking in the cage at Gibbs who is starting to foam and wheeze. CUJO!
Now one would think that elevators are a pretty standard piece of equipment no matter where you are. Up and Down. Easy peasy. Apparently, Portuguese elevators are different. The only way they could be anymore different is if they went sideways. I hit the button for the 4th floor and somehow end up visiting the basement level three times before making it to the 4th floor. When I finally get to the ticket counter, they find the phantom vet’s phone and call. He cannot help me. So, I take a peek at Gibbs and decide I need a vet or there is no way he will make it to Athens still breathing.
The nice, very cute boy at the counter hands me the address of the nearest vet. I make my way to the taxi line and OH MY GOD!! It is a mile long. I think, What Would Myra Do??? I find a young man who in turn gets the Policia and the next thing I know, I am in a cab and being whisked away, off to the vet. No line for me!!
I get ripped off by the taxi driver who must’ve mistaken me for an independently wealthy American, but am too anxious to argue...plus, I haven’t really brushed up on my Portuguese swear words! I make my way up the two flights of stairs with Gibbs in one hand and his kennel in the other. I realize upon entering that we got there at the perfect moment of 2:58pm. The vet closes at 3 and reopens at 4. Gotta love Siesta! They stare at me and take one look at Gibbs and allow us in.
I’ll start by saying, the ladies I’m about to spend the rest of my day with turn out to be some of the nicest people I have ever met, and of course they love, love, love Gibbs. The cost of this vet trip will probably be the best 50,00 Euros I will ever spend, as I will always remember and be grateful to Vanessa, Rita and Victoria for taking in a grandpa smelling American and her neurotic bulldog.
After my initial moment of going all Terms of Endearment-- GIVE MY DOG THE SHOT!!!!-- it is decided I will stay with them until I need to be back at the airport for our next flight. They actually end up giving Gibbs a few shots-- of what I have no idea. And most likely I will never know as there is a bit of a language gap. For all I know, it could’ve been crack! I do, however, understand when one of the girls says “coffee.” Yes! I would love some! Bless her heart, she comes back with a thimble of the strongest coffee I have ever tasted. My first, real, European coffee! And also, I am now fully alert!!
We are put in the surgery room to hang out since it will not be in use for the day.
Around 5pm, Gibbs gives up and starts to really settle down and close his eyes. We still have about 2 hours until we give him his new pills for the flight. This is about the time when I start to feel a little antsy. Time awake: just shy of 10 hours Food intake: thimble of coffee and tiny sliver of cake.
Finally, 7:30 pm arrives and we shove the pills down Gibbs’ mouth. Again, I contemplate taking one for myself!
Now hang in here with me for a moment, I want to set up this next scene:
Have you seen the video of the drunk guy at Coachella trying to put on his flip flop, but just can’t get it?? ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Au_8GMUxVs ) Well, that's Gibbs! He starts teeter-tottering and all I can think is "Thank God!!" He is a very drunk doggie. After six hours of heavy panting and foaming at the mouth, I'm ready for some peace and quiet. (Note: Gibbs has now been clean and sober for more than 48 hours. A 12-step program may be in his future).
I lift this very stoned, 65lb bulldog into his kennel and start our good byes. After many thanks and hugs, Rita helps me down to the street with Gibbs in the kennel because his legs might as well be made out of jello at this point.
The taxi man is waiting and we make our way down the first flight of steps with me leading around the corner then...OH NO! I am flying through the air and come crashing down on my hip, then slide a few steps more for good measure. Rita screams while luckily still holding on to Gibbs’ cage as I regain my footing and get up. The taxi man and another gentleman see our struggle and come to help.
I shake off what I can and take a peek at “the dog”. At this point, he is “just a dog” to me and I am pretty sure, in his near comatose state, he is completely unaware of what just happened. After another taxi is called to come because the dog won’t fit in the first taxi, I am now on my way back to the airport with a hurting back, bruised leg, and a raging envy for whatever drugs Gibbs is on.
Back at the airport, I load my snoring dog on a cart and find my way to the check-in counter. Again, I get the nicest people to help me with this. I then find out it is going to cost another 200,00 Euros ($275) to get the dog to Athens. Oh, and I also need to take him to oversized luggage for the flight that is now only 2 hours away.
At this point I decide it is time for a beer!! So that’s what I do!! I manage to suck down the warmest Becks beer ever and eat the remaining combos from the Lajes commissary. This is all the “nutrition” that will carry me through until 5:30 the next morning. (Side note: Had I remembered I had them... Yes! I would have totally eaten the remaining combos about 5 hours earlier.)
Slowly, the airport gets quiet and I realize I am on one of the last flights to leave. I make my way to drop off Gibbs to his exit and am told I need to remove my dog so the kennel can go through the x-ray. WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me? No. In fact they are quite serious about this and it’s clear from their faces any sarcasm I was considering would not be well-received.
So now I have to dead lift (and I do mean dead lift) my limp, 65lb dog with my now gimpy left leg, screaming back, and woozy head (warm beer, empty stomach) and carry him for what in my mind was a mile to wait for the kennel to clear x-ray. So, I sit and wait as a river of drool washes over me (his drool, not mine). Finally they bring the cage back. Shocker, it’s ok. All clear! After I put the dog back in the cage, I realize I’ve just had my very first ever feeling of bloodlust.
At long last I am in my seat waiting for my flight that is only a short 55 minutes...
40 minutes...
20 minutes...
15 minutes...
5 minutes away.
Finally! Headed for Athens. I decline dinner because again, it makes me gag. I will not bore you with the in-flight details as they will make me sound very spoiled, but SHIT! That girl TOTALLY took up two seats and slept on my shoulder for way longer than was appropriate! Just sayin’.
Day 3 going on 4 almost over. Can’t wait to have my feet back on solid ground.
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