Yes, tomorrow I will surrender myself to the hustle and bustle of end of Holiday travel. I will take up time at the ticket counter by somehow submerging my ID down to the pits of my Louis Vuitton where no hand shall ever have to go. I will forget my confirmation number which will result in the desk clerk having to type on the computer for 10 minutes, frantically pushing each button on the computer as if she is trying to crack some kind of secret code. My suitcase will be too heavy and I will have to pay the extra fifty dollars just to have my suitcase catapulted onto the conveyor belt. As if she ranked number one in the javelin. When will there be a law passed for suitcase abuse. They have feelings too you know.
" Your gate number is B35. Thank you for flying us. We hope that you enjoyed your stay and that you reach your destination sucessfully" Successfully? Should I ask her what happens if I don't find my destination successfully? Is That a real smile? How many times does she have to use that tone of voice? Does she say that to everyone? Am I really standing here with my head cocked to the side staring at her thinking this? Am I thinking outloud? Oh well. My destination awaits me... or does it?
I will drop my ID back down into the black hole of the unknown and realize that I will be needed it to get through security. My dog will be wining in her carrier. I will realize that I forgot to give her a half of a teaspoon of baby Benedryl so that she will be relaxed until we reach our "destination". My bangs will fall out of their bobby pins that have been placed with much trial and error. I thought it would be totally cute if I cut them strait across. Um, mistake number fiftyseven thousand.... and two. My skinny jeans will fit a little bit tighter than when I reached my first destination. My bra straps will keep falling because, well, I think I need a new bra. Comfortable bra + denial of a new one = bad. Just bad.
I will reach security and realize I have on my Uggs. I will have to put everything down and literally pull my skinny jeans up just to get my Uggs off. I have on jewelry that will set of the alarms and I have to take my dog out of her carrier. I usually give everyone a pretty good show before entering the all mighty metal detectors. I have been flying since I was seven and yet I still can't get it together before passing through. Goodness.
I am certain that standing before me will be a big, muscular woman named Helga with combat boots on. Her hair will be pulled in a tight bun. Stretching her eyes open and smoothing out each wrinkle. Wow Megan, sterotype much?? She won't smile. She won't speak. She will simply motion me to come through. I will beep once and she will suddenly fling her hand up in my face and with a deep voice request that I move back and remove any metal from my body. I will remember that I keep my phone in my pocket. I will beep a second time. Except, this time, she guides me to a little clear holding cell in the middle of the security line. There I will stand, with my dog. Barefoot and vulnerable. Bangs a mess. Hungry.
I will remember that my dogs collar has a metal tag on it and I will knock on the clear, bulletproof door showing her the reason I beeped a second time. Ah, that did it. Third times a charm. I will then attempt to fight with all the buckets that are coming out of the Xray machine at one time. Kind of like one of those assembly line conveyor belts at a candy factory that get out of control. My uggs won't go on so smoothly this time. Darn those tight skinny jeans. People will walk pass me as if they feel my pain. Noone makes eye contact the security booths. You are literally a robot. Take off half your attire, walk strait through the dectector, get your shit and be on your merry adventure and hopefully "reach your destination successfully".
I will then forget my gate number. I will have to stop at one of those little screens to find my flight. I will feel as if I had just tried out for the lead role in a play as I elbow my way through the crowd to find my one little gate number out of 200. I will be surrounded by strangers of many cultures and religions, all shoving their way to find their gates. It will be like a herd of cattle. Frustrated, beautiful, Iphone is their faces cattle. I will then remember that my gate is B35. I am standing in terminal E. Who the heck has a terminal E? Yes my friends, I will then embark on my quest lugging my 14 pound dog in her hot pink carrier towards freakin gate B.
I do not dare stop to get a scrumptious, swirly, frosting covered sticky bun. Those things were sent from the heavens. Except, my skinny jeans, at the moment won't be so heavenly. Twenty pounds lighter, six hundred and fifty seven miles later and sweating, I will have FINALLY reached my gate. B35, I will never forget you. Your not a mirage. Your real. I love you terminal B, gate 35.
I will see people sitting down with their blackberries and Iphones. I will see business men devouring Mcdonalds double cheeseburgers as they close the deal with their bluetooths lit up in their ears. I will see mommy's rushing their children to the bathrooms in hopes of a "accident free" travel day. I will see soldiers pacing back and forth. Some will be on their phones texting their loved ones because they are coming home. Some will be wondering what is goin go to happen next. I don't like to see that kind of pacing.
I will see children on their father's shoulders standing against the window awaiting the big airplane that is about to pull up. I will be hearing many different conversations. I will be wishing I had an Ipod so that I can listen to music. I will be replaying my wonderful memories of my time spent with my family. I will surprised how well my dog is doing in her carrier. I will be wondering what I will be eating during my next layover. I will be awaiting the moment when I get to struggle out of these skinny jeans and slip into my sweat pants.
I will be flying off into the sunset, writing the next two weeks of lesson plans. I will be grasping on to my neighbor as we hit turbulance. I will think how beautiful the sky looks from "way up here". I will be thankful for love and my family. I will want to come back sometime soon. I sure do love to fly.
Airplane cookies coming up. No turbulance added.
Photo courtesy of psionteklogix.com
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