Welkom!

Yes, I have arrived.

On Wednesday morning, my parents, the doggies and I all headed to the airport where, with much whimpering and confusion, we managed to get me and dogs checked in. Bella and Spud didn't particularly enjoy being in their crates on a luggage cart, but since they don’t know how to work the latch on the crate, their votes don’t count, and off they went with the friendly baggage handler lady.

The flight to Chicago was nice and short, and once I got there I wandered mere feet and found myself at my next gate. It looked like a third world country. Too many people, too little room, confusion, languages I couldn’t understand....Ben had said his flight was nice and empty and mine would probably be the same. Nope, apparently not. As I was contemplating forcing my way through the crowd to ask one of the gate agents to check on the dogs location, a baby girl on a leash pulled her father through the crowd in front of me. He looked tired and fed up, but had an expression on his face that said "Oh well, she wants to run around like crazy. I guess I just have to follow." Then his son came up to join them, making his carry-on gallop in his wake. Yes, he was even talking to it like it was a rowdy pony. As the little girl decided to climb on another passengers suitcase and the father looked on with his "Oh well, what can I do?" expression, the mother came and joined them with a look of perpetual annoyance on her face. They looked like one big bucket of fun.

A few minutes later I was able to board the plane, and after I got settled in me seat I watched what seemed like hundreds of people file on after me. After the plane had almost completely filled up, I still had two empty seats right next to me and I looked up to see people coming straight for them. And who were these people ? Oh yes, it was the family with leash girl and pony boy, and they came and set the baby's carseat right next to me. Goody. I tried not to glare as the girl started climbing over the back of her seat, tried to escape down the aisle, and then yelled and kicked the seat in front of her. Honestly, I tried to be understanding toward the parents, but when the flight attendant came and said with a wink, "I have an empty seat up there, would you like to move? I think everybody might be more comfortable, yes?", I picked up my bag and tried to contain my joy as I moved to a much less stressful area of the plane.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Once I arrived in Brussels, went through customs, and collected my bags and the dogs, I did run into a teeny tiny little problem when I found that Ben was not there waiting for me. So I waited, and waited, and got a little worried, but he finally showed up (the delay was due to incredibly awful traffic), and we piled into our shuttle and went home, where I promptly climbed into bed for a nap.

So now we're all here. The dogs were not permanently scarred from their travel experience. And I wasn't either, for that matter. So now the "real" adventure begins as we learn to dodge dog poop on the sidewalk and figure out the crazy Dutch language and try as many different forms of fried potatoes as we can find.