We drove to get them.
Husband and I have not been to an airport in a while. I wonder if anyone was monitoring the ticket booth, we were busily trying to figure out where to pay for the ticket for our car parking... Note: tickets are POST pay, you don't have to estimate time you will be spending. Sheesh.
We went in, and Husband was pacing a bit. I hadn't been to this airport for a while... Um. QUITE a while. The last time, in fact, was March 30, 1981, when Ronald Reagan was shot. I did have to look up the date, but I remember that, because we were not allowed off the plane, and it was the first time I had ever seen a Sky Marshall. Having someone get out of his seat, pistol clearly visible, then have him sprint to the front of the plane, does give one pause.
Anyway, it's changed. Much bigger, more planes, and car rentals, a different section for luggage pick up... But, it's still an airport.
Husband wandered over to the reader board to see when they would arrive. I sat, knitting, and people watching. A Mom saying goodbye to a son, the hugging was long, the tears were flowing. A guy wanting to sip water on the plane, a TSA agent telling him he had to throw it away. The man gazed at the bottle, shrugged, chugged, and made a three pointer in the trash can on the way to his plane.
Husband was getting concerned that in-laws weren't out yet. I'd seen a wheelchair go into the deplaning area. I mentioned this. Husband was still just sure that they'd missed the connecting flight. After several minutes, in-laws were coming, FIL in a wheel chair, as I'd guessed. Husband was ready to go meet them, I had to grab him, he'd almost wandered into the restricted area, and there was an agent that looked ready to tackle him if he did.
But all was well... In-laws hadn't eaten, and I'd brought cookies. I think FIL inhaled at least two by the time we got into the car. (Like father, like son?) StepMIL was wound up, slowly unwound, and was doing pretty good by the time we returned them home...
We'd started the hot water for them, set the temp in the house to "habitable" again, and stopped all the electric clocks from blinking. They were tickled, and were both making plans to invade the showers as we left.
So, if you go to the airport- the parking tickets don't need to be paid for in advance, wheel chairs take a bit, and Husband and FIL like cookies as a snack. At least mine do. StepMIL does, too, but not as much...