Big drama with Zoe this morning. She’s on American Airlines flight 244 right now, enroute to Orlando, FL where she’s spending a week visiting her bubbe. Getting her on that flight, though, now that’s the story.

First, she left for the airport yesterday morning with Beth. They got up at 4:30 a.m. and headed for LAX in plenty of time for Zoe’s 7:15 a.m. flight. I didn’t go with them because I was teaching a class downtown at 8:00 and I couldn’t do the airport and still get to work in time to set up for the class. So amid much tears of sadness that I wouldn’t be there to say goodbye to her, Zoe went to the airport with Beth but without me. And then when they tried to check in, Beth realized an error had been made “by someone” — Zoe’s flight was for today, not yesterday. So Zoe didn’t go to Florida yesterday after all.

4:30 a.m. this morning, it was me getting up with Zoe, because this time it was Beth who couldn’t accompany her to the aiport because of work. So Zoe and I got to the airport and got her checked in (on the right day this time) and then I walked her down to her gate and we said our goodbyes.

Traveling as an unaccompanied minor, the procedure was this:

1. I went with her to the gate where the flight boards, where we checked her in with the gate agents.
2. We said goodbye, and then a gate agent walked her onto the plane and introduced/turned her over to a flight attendant.
3. Plane takes off, flies to Orlando.
4. At Orlando, the flight attendant walks her off the plane and turns her over to a gate agent, who then checks Bubbe’s ID and turns Zoe over to her.

At least that’s how it’s supposed to happen. We got as far as step two.

So I’m sitting there at the gate, waiting for her flight to push back and wondering how Zoe’s doing and kind of missing her already and wishing we had had a few more minutes of quiet time together before she got on the plane, when a stewardess gets off and start searching the crowd at the gate for … someone. For me.

On board, Zoe was apparently freaking out. Not fully flipping her lid screaming freaking out, but definitely crying and hyperventilating and “I want my daddy” freaking out. So the stewardess comes to me with her cell phone and suggests that maybe she can go back to Zoe with her phone and call mine and maybe I can try to talk her down. So I gave her my cell phone number and she went back on the plane and I waited for a call.

When my phone rang, it was Beth calling from home. Zoe had apparently used the stewardess’ cell to call home instead of me, and now Beth was calling me to tell me that (duh) Zoe was freaking out and wanted off the plane. Then Zoe called and I talked to her for awhile and tried to calm her down and basically told her she had to be a big girl and stay on the plane. We ended the conversation with her agreeing that she was staying on the plane but really not at all happy about it.

So I hung out in the gate area, waiting for the plane to push back. And about 10 minutes later, another stewardess got off and came looking for me. Zoe was still freaking out, really wanted off the plane, and the stewardess wanted to see how I felt about it. They were clearly concerned about Zoe and were just waiting for me to say “Okay” to take her off the flight. And as this is going on, the flight’s captain comes over and suggests that I come on the plane and talk to her and try to calm her down there.

So I went on the plane, where the captain suggested that we bring Zoe up to the cockpit and show it to her and try to calm her down there. So now I’m sitting up in the freaking cockpit of the plane, talking to Zoe and the captain, holding up the entire flight, flight attendants and the rest of the flight crew clustered around the cockpit door, everyone concerned for Zoe and feeling bad for her, a plane full of people watching all this activity going on in the cockpit and wondering what the hell was going on, with an undercurrent of “we gotta get going” adding a little more adrenaline to an already nerve-wracking situation.

Fun.

And me, I couldn’t decide what to do. On the one hand, I knew I had to make her stay on the flight and suck it up and be a big girl and do the right thing. On the other hand, I had the superstitious voice in the back of my head saying “It’s a sign! It’s a sign! It’s a sign! It’s a sign! You’d better take her off, it’s a sign! The plane’s gonna crash, it’s a sign!” And on the third hand I really kinda just didn’t want her to go because I was missing her already even though she was right there in front of me.

And so I did my waffle impression: “You can get off if you really want to. But I think you should stay. No, you’re staying. Unless you really, really want to get off. But you’re going. You really wanted to go and now you’re here so you’re going. Unless you really want to get off. No, you’re going. Unless…”

Meanwhile, the clock is ticking, the flight crew is watching me, the passengers are watching me, and Zoe — tears streaming down her face moaning “Daddy, I really don’t want to go, I really want to stay home with you guys!” — is watching me.

Fun.

But… Well, like I said, she’s on flight 244 right now, on her way to Orlando. Scarred for life, probably, but she’s on the plane.

And me? I’m sitting here obsessively tracking her flight on FlyteComm, reloading the page over and over again, watching her make her way across the country. She’s just about over Dallas right now, flying 555 mph at 35,000 feet, with 1:50 left to go in the flight.

I think I’ll stop holding my breath when it lands safely. And I’ll start breathing again when she’s back home 10 days from now.