Airports and Time Travel

I pity the fool that has to sit next to me on the airplane tonight.  I went on a 3 mile run beforehand.  Did I shower afterwards?  Nope.  No time.  Packing?  No. Watching tv?  Nailed it.  I’m looking and smelling pretty fresh right about now.  Also, I’m going pass out as I am done shoving my oversized carry-on into the overhead bin compartment. And I’m a drooler.  And I’m in the middle.  So chances are I’m probs going to drool all over some stranger’s shoulder.  No big.  

So I am sitting in the airport about to start my summer full of adventures. Airports are an interesting place.  They change me.  They cause a stirring somewhere deep within me and put me into what I can only label as “Airport Mode.”  Creative, I know.  Is airport mode a good thing?  If you are a traveler who means business much like myself, yes, it is.  I will not get in your way.  I will not slow you down.  I will not burden you by stopping you and asking you to point me to my gate.  I will not hold you up at the security checkpoint.  I will have my laptop, shoes, and jacket in a container waiting to be scanned through security.  I will not pitch a fit about my rights being violated when I am selected to go through the naked scanner.  I welcome it.  But I do find it odd that I am picked every time.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I will not get on the moving sidewalks and stand there like a pin head.  I will take advantage of those things to quadruple my walking speed.  On the other hand, if you are a small child, an elderly person, a leisurely traveler, or anyone else who gets in my way, Airplane Mode may very well be a terrible thing.  Maybe even dangerous. I am generally a very laid back, agreeable person, but something about airports change me.  I get in this mindset. Pure business.  Move it or lose it folks.

Another thing about airports is that I have the worst luck traveling.  My latest flying adventure involved a terrible suitcase mix-up in which I ended up with the suitcase of a middle-aged man.  The one before that involved me running across two terminals in the O’Hare airport to catch a plane that was waiting to take off because of me.  Did I have a suitcase with defective wheels? Of course.  Was I sick? Naturally.  Did I have an asthma attack? Definitely.  So I’m trying to make a mad dash and I’m huffing and puffing because my lungs are all congested from being sick.  (Without fail, I always get sick after finals week and spend the first couple of days at home out of commission.)  So I have to dig my inhaler out of my backpack.  As I look up from digging around in my bag I see one of those glorified golf carts that they use to tote around old people.  It was empty.  The keys were in it.  Holy heaven send.  I stood there staring at it for a second and as I started to walk towards it I got this terrible flash in my head of my mug shot on The Today Show and Al Roker detailing the story of how a college student ran down a family of five in the Chicago airport in her desperation to get home for Christmas.  I thought that would probably reflect poorly on me, so I used my better judgment and made like a banana and split.  I make it to the gate and there is this woman standing there and asks if I’m Nicole Hamilton.  You know you’re in trouble if the gate agent knows you by name.  Then I get on the plane and I’m the very last row, so I get to walk past every single person on that plane as they glare at me.  Lay off the Hatorade folks. I have never felt so hated in my life.  Except that one time I told a Mexican joke very audibly in a Mexican restaurant.  And this time before that, I was flying with my dog, and he escaped from his cage because he is some kind of crazy escape artist.  For reals.  I called him Houdini.  So I have to run and chase him down and the airport workers are all mad at me and give me a lecture something along the lines of “Ma’am, your dog is crazy as hell, keep your animal under control.”  So I can’t wait to see what tonight’s flying adventures hold.  It’s a redeye flight so I am sure I will not be let down.  Bring it. 

As a side note, if you don’t fly redeye flights you don’t know how to travel.  Redeyes are the greatest invention ever.  You hop on the plane, pass out, wake up, bam you’re there.  Seriously, I fly redeyes every time.  I get on the plane, pass out before the plane even takes off, and don’t wake up until the kind soul next to me gently nudges me awake after we’ve landed.  It’s as close to time travel as you will ever get.  Also, heaven forbid, but in the event that my plane is hijacked or the plane malfunctions and crashes, I will be blissfully unaware.  I'll sleep through it all.  I always have wanted to die in my sleep.  Redeye flights make dreams come true.  They are truly one of society’s most undervalued assets.