Okay, so the worst story from our trip is probably the hellish trip home. It was really bad. Like, worst trip home EVER.

Well, maybe not, but it felt that way.

So we get to the Orlando airport early, breeze through security, and then get to our gate. They announce, after a bit, that the incoming flight is delayed, so we'll be a bit behind, but only a few minutes, so it doesn't matter. Well, we already had a forty minute connection to make in Houston, so that freaked us out a bit. My mom lets them know, and they arrange for one of those little cart thingies to pick us up at our gate and take us to the next gate, since my mom needs help getting around right now.

Well, we get on the plane, after the smoothest boarding I've ever seen (everyone else had connections, too, so we were all on our best behavior), and as they close the doors, the pilot announces that there's weather in Houston, so he has to taxi until he knows whether or not he'll be able to land.

So we taxi for a bit, then take off, but he's pretty sure we'll be on time.

Yeah, no. After a few minutes, he announces that we'll have to fly around and approach Houston from another side, so we'll be about 30 minutes late. Then, after numerous other announcements which didn't end up being accurate, and my mom having to barf, which is no fun, we finally land in Houston about twenty minutes late. I check my phone, and there's a text from the airline, saying the next flight is delayed until 6:55, which gives us an extra hour, so we're good, and not freaking out.

We get on the airline cart thingy and are driven by the most sullen man on the planet to this area and dropped off. We stand there forever and then finally a nice lady comes over to push my mom in her wheelchair, and she uses her walkie-talkie to call in to see what gate we're at. Not only did the airline change our gate, but they bumped our flight back forward (did you know they could do that???) so she hauls butt with the chair, taking us through the back way, while we all run to the gate so we don't miss our flight.

Wait...this isn't even the bad part.

We all finally get on the plane, and it's a little plane, with single seats across the aisle from a pair of seats, so me and my husband are in single seats a few rows apart, with him behind me, and my parents are together across the aisle from me. In between us is a family with a "21-month-old."

Oh, and props to the guy who asked if it wouldn't just be easier to say "two." Yes, guy. Yes, it would.

Anyway, Dad comes on to the plane apologizing in advance for the kid. Oh, holy crap, we should've known. Pretty much screamed the entire time, whenever her whole family wasn't doing whatever she wanted, which was usually running up and down the aisle. SCREAMED. Like, bloody-murder-I-am-being-stabbed-my-shoes-are-on-fire screaming. Oh, and have I mentioned I have a bad ear that can't deal with loud, high-pitched sounds? Yeah. That. My husband was right next to them, so I can only imagine how bad his headache was.

So, we all survive, get off the plane, finally home, get our luggage, get to the car, and stop at McDonald's on the way home so we can get some food. On our way out, a crazy drunk hobo attempts to start crap with our family, but, thank goodness for him, his friend tells him to knock it off.

Because I was in no mood. He would've lost whatever teeth were still in his head.

So, that was the trip home. Glorious day, no?