Parents

I love my parents - I do, but they are more exhausting then a newborn child.  They came March 31st, and just picking the up from the airport was exhausting.  They had a long flight, waited in Istanbul, and then their flight was delayed to Ankara.  There domestic landing somehow rerouted them to International arrivals so we missed each other in the airport.  The message board said they had arrived, butTolga and I had been waiting for about 3 hours.  I had started making a list of all the cities that started with an "A" that they might have confused Ankara with and ended up on the wrong plane.

Fortunately, my father borrowed someone's phone and called us.  They were waiting in a lost luggage line to fill out forms because apparently many people that day had lost their luggage.  He sent mom out to meet us, but we lost her because while we were walking over to international arrivals, she was wandering around the airport looking for Gloria Jeans - the fallback meeting point we had told them.

When my father finally made it to the front and the attendant tracked their luggage, they learned it had arrived in the domestics - where they should have been all along.  When I finally saw my father, he forgot to look at his new grandson because he was too busy following the attendant.  Tolga was looking for my mom.  At one point on the long empty way the sight was:

A mad attendant, my father trailing 20 feet behind, my carrying Teoman 40 feet behind him, Tolga walking the other direction about 100 feet away, and my mom appearing over the balcony of the 2nd floor hollering, "Where's the Gloria Jeans?  I've been looking all over for it!"

Eventually, we rounded up everybody and everything.