My poor husband... Bob works so hard for us. He works his ass off and this past trip, he apparently worked his brain off too.
I typically drop him off and pick him up from the airport for his trips. When I do pick him up, he'll keep me updated on his arrival so he can just walk out the airport door and get directly in my car with no waiting. We usually time it pretty well.
Last night, he text me that he landed and he was walking through the terminal, to pick him up from Door 2. Well, I was in bed, not planning on picking him up, because he drove himself to the airport last week. But he forgot that. Poor guy.
At least this isn't as bad as the time he completely lost his car. Usually, when he drives himself he'll park at an airport hotel and take their shuttle to the airport. He tips well, so the drivers don't mind giving him a lift. He left from Houston on a trip a few years ago and was gone for about 6 weeks. He returned, took the shuttle to the hotel, but his car was gone. He called the police, reported it stolen, and went about his business.
A few days later, the cops called back. They found his car. At the Sheraton. When he thought it was parked at the Holiday Inn.
Poor, poor Bob.
