Call me. It doesn't matter which airport you need to get to. I'll probably end up going there anyway on my way home.
I dropped off Brandon's family, the last relatives in town, at the Long Beach Airport on Wednesday. Then 20 minutes later noticed I was at LAX. Oops. That's what happens when you give a girl with no sense of direction a car. Flipped back around, passed the Long Beach and John Wayne, and made it back home a mere 120 miles later.
I'm going to go visit my sister in Escondido next week. And stop through Temecula on my way home. Because that's what I always do.
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