In the car, driving Patient to the airport in Mesa/Tempe, AZ. We will be several hours early for Patient’s flight if we are able to find the airport. I am unclear about exactly where I should turn, but trust that my memory will become clearer as we approach our destination. Traveling on the 60, we move from I-10 past the 101. We stop at a hotel bar to ask for directions. Patient comes in with me and we take the elevator to the third floor. We step out, walk down the steps descending from the elevator doors, and approach the bar. The bar tender gives directions, stating that we need to turn at Country Club and the 60. Patient says with a knowing tone, we were just over there. Patient sits at the bar and engages in conversation with other patrons. I ask Patient to come with me back to the car, but he ignores me. I say, “Let’s go.”, but he is unresponsive. I return to the car, hoping Patient will follow. I sit in the car, awaiting Patient’s return. A sense of urgency slowly builds as spare time to make Patient’s flight slowly disappears. I return to the elevator and fail to recall the floor on which we’d previously stopped. I stop on the second floor and step out of the elevator. Automobiles on large lifts line the walls of this floor. I step back into the elevator and proceed to the next floor. I step out and walk down the steps. Patient is no longer sitting at the bar. I ask the bar tender where Patient has gone, but receive no helpful information. I attempt to return to the elevator, but the steps are now blocked by a velvet rope. I ask a worker there for assistance. He informs me I can no longer go that way.