We're here. But should we have come?

Today is day one of the 2023 Alaska and Canada extravaganza. It's a travel day. And by the end of it we will have questioned whether we should have left home at all. Here's a summary of the last 24 hours:

We board our non-stop Delta flight from Minneapolis to Vancouver around 9 AM, ready for a 10 AM departure. Soon we hear that there will be a delay because the pilot is sick. Gotta have a pilot to fly the plane. So we wait, but not too long, for swooping in to the rescue was pilot number two. Off we taxi to the runway, but we are stopped because the computers need to reboot (??? Okay?). Problem solved. Then, the crew discoveres a problem with the engine, so we taxi back to the gate for a quick look-see by the maintenence crew. Not to worry, it should just be a few more minutes and then we'll get going. Except for the part when Delta (rightly so I my opinion) decides that maybe it's not a good idea to fly 200 people across the country in this particular plane. We we all get off and wait for a replacement plane. As we sit, watching the newly-formed rain soak our luggage, we notice that the ground crew is using George's wheelchair to move luggage to the new airplane. I mean if it gets us up in the air faster... And it does. We are on our way, getting in to Vancouver a mere 4 hours late, which isn't too bad considering the challenges we've already conquored. And bonus, we are so late that we can meet up with my nephew Reagan, whose plane was due to arrive much later than ours, so that we could manage the challengees of navigating a new city together. What a relief. We are here. Who'd of thought that an elevator would be our downfall?

At our Airbnb, we are mystifyed that we can't buzz in to the large apartment building with the code we are given by the hosts. Luckily (and uscrupuloulsy by him) a resident lets us in. On the very tight elevator, with all three of us and our luggange and wheelchair, we cannot get the elevator to send us to the 15th floor. We get off, try another elevator with no luck, scan our directions from the Airbnb hosts to figure out what we're doing wrong. No clues. Another resident enters the building and I stop him to ask for help. Turns out you need a key fob for the elevator to work. The resident can't help us with that, though, because his fob only lets him on to the 17th floor. Mom has been here for a few hours, and we previously asked her if she needed a fob or any other device to make it to the coveted 15th floor. She did not. That's because when she checked in -- turns out that the Airbnb hosts remotely let her access the elevator from wherever in the world they are. But, we called her back after the fob clue was provided and discovered that there IS a fob on the counter of the kitchen. Hard to use when it's already in the apartment, me thinks. So Mom comes and rescues us. We arrive on the 15th floor. We are in our first home. Easy, right?

After all of the challenges of the day, George was not feeling his best and was struggling with anxiety and a true lack of belief that any of this would be fun at all. We were hungry, too, because our 7 hour flight experience didn't include a meal, and we had only airplane snacks all day. He was very upset and asked to go home, wanted to escape Vancouver and traveling all together, even though he'd been so excited for this trip for weeks. After much discussion and distress and discombobulation, I called Delta to send him home. But, even though I could have saved ten cents by switching his flight from his original departure to tomorrow, I just couldn't do it, as much as he begged in the moment. I knew it would all get better, so instead I booked a hotel for him and me so that he could have a place to decompress and start to rebuild his reserves. Off we go to the hotel. It's only 1500 meters away, so it should be a snap to get there, however...

Did you know that Vancouver is hilly? I didn't. We learned this fact very quickly as we followed Maps to our new lodgings. George and I had his wheelchair, two large backbacks, and one small bag as we made our way to the Sanderman Hotel. Shortly, we ran into a huge staircase. No worries, though, because there off to the side, was an elevator. Mobility crisis averted! Until we ran into the second huge staircase. But this too can be conquored with the second well-placed elevator. And then, when we were at our weakest and most vunleralbe moment of this never-ending travel day, there was a third set of stairs. No elevator. We were trapped, that is until I saw that there was a metro station to our left. And inside the metro station was an elevator! Our only obstacle to that elevator was our lack of a ticket to get into the station. So, as you do when you need an elevator, I purchased a metro ticket to unlock this last step in our escape-room-like trip to Vancouver. Er, not the last obstical actually. The lobbly to the hotel required us to navigate two steps down to the reciption area. We just hurled that wheelchair right down those steps and continued on, not letting anything stop us from reaching that haven of a hotel room. Or was it a haven???

It was actually, that is until 3:15 AM, when we awaken to the fire alarm. It's loud. We call down to the front desk and they tell us to evacuate, so we do, taking the elevator down to the ground floor (I know, I know, don't take an elevator during a fire emergency, but we had the wheelchair, of course, and it was so loud, that alarm. We risked whatever happens to people in elevators during a fire to escape that noise). We spend an interesting hour on the sidewalk outside of the hotel, enjoying the spectalce of 300 pajama-clad patrons milling about amongst Vancouver's finest, trying to sort out the middle of the night mess. When the all clear came, George and I waited for the (can you even imagine) the line of ALL hotel guests trying to get on the elevators back to our rooms. When we do return to room 1043, we snuggle down into the really comfy bed, only to be awakened two more times, 40 minutes apart, just enough time to really fall asleep, to the faulty alarm going off again and agian. 

It's now the morning of day two. We discover that what really drove most of George's distress (I mean other than the day I just described) was that he didn't take a med yesterday that is critical to take daily or else it can make a person, well, out of sorts. We are here. But, sincerely, should we have come?