a wanderer’s thoughts

BrightSide and I ran away last week.  Well, we took the kids with us, but we left all responsibility behind for seven glorious days.  Just in time, too.

Rarely have both BrightSide and I been so badly in need of time away.  For reals, people…it was getting a little touch and go around the homestead.

And because I’m never without my trusty pen and notebook, here are a few random thoughts I had along the way.

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* Few things can derail my morning quite like being told I’ve been “pulled for additional screening.”  I’m a TSA fan – go ahead and check everyone twice, thank you very much – but being selected for this particular honor throws me for a loop.  It inevitably leads to two hours of self-evaluation: what made me stand out as worthy of further scrutiny?  My shoes?  My outfit? I’ve already changed the way I dress.  I’ve given up the baseball cap.  I didn’t even have an underwire bra on, for Pete’s sake.

* The fact that you practically have to up your credit limit to buy airport food really burns my britches.  (Tee hee!  Britches!  Doe that make me extra southern?)   An airport is the only place on the planet I would force myself to pay $45 for five biscuits and four iced teas.   Biscuits.  And tea.  We’re not talking fine dining here.  Sheesh.

* I’m not sure what kinda brave you’ve got to be to go barefoot on an airplane.  I just know I don’t have it.

* As the lovely flight attendant handed out drinks and cookies, she very helpfully pointed out that they sell cookie butter at Trader Joe’s.  So if you’re jonesing for those Delta cookies but don’t have a flight for a while, head on over to your local TJ and pick up a tub of spreadable cookies. Can you say YUM?

* On my good travel days I roll with everything except significant turbulence.  My sea bands (and sometimes some Bonine) gets me through the typical flights from here to there.  But on my bad days?  I feel every tiny movement that plane makes in my gut.  All the pilot has to do is bank left by two degrees and I’m clutching my armrest, asking BrightSide if he feels that, too.  Maybe it’s time to consider sedation.

* Listen, the elderly get a pass on this one, but for real the back of my airplane seat is actually considered my space (seeing as I paid an ungodly amount to sit in it).  I’m all about sharing, but my headrest is not there to serve as your handrail every freaking time you get out of your seat.  In the process of pulling yourself up you yank so hard on that thing it ends up flipping forward and I’ve got whiplash by the end of the flight.  Just stop it.

* It occurs to me that an airplane flight is like a multi-nation peace talk…it takes people from all walks of life and seals us into a confined space for hours (sometimes days).  Everyone has to do their part if we hope to survive the experience.

* Eventually we find ourselves gratefully finishing a flight, but all too often as we descend toward the ground we’re doing it through chop.  This leads to an interesting dilemma…I can’t wait to land and have this flight behind me.  On the other hand, with the plane jerking all over the place and fervent prayers being lifted, I’m still a little bit terrified of what will happen on the other end of that descent.

 

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