In honor of being stranded in Seattle for one more day: you got me again, Delta.
Airplanes
Day 19: December 30
Brace yourself. It’s another day with Delta.
But this time, you’re too forlorn to make detailed notes about the experience. Because vacation’s over. It’s time to get back to all those things you’re avoiding back in Baltimore. It’s time to go home. Back to real life.
But remember, that’s joyous! You like Baltimore. (Even if you’ve yet to convince your landlord the value of a dog.)
You drag your feet through the airport like a pouting child, willing your four-hour layover to move quickly. It declines.
In the meantime, you continue with the email and hard drive clean up you’ve been pursuing all week.
You come across a folder labeled “for the blog.” You remember this as the folder you’ve been putting stuff in for the blog. You open it and realize that you’ve been slacking. You haven’t posted any of this stuff. And really, it’s not so much “stuff” as it is “photos that made you laugh.”
Whelp, better late than never, right?
In August 2011, I moved to Baltimore to the general astonishment (and in some cases, horror) of my […]
As someone who really enjoys their quiet, internal time, I can assure you that I do not make these new airplane-friends on purpose. I think I must just have a face that says, “Tell me your life story beginning with your most traumatic memory, because I’ll listen.”
Remember when I half-promised-sorta that I was going to post several blogs about my air travels in one week. That was cute, wasn’t it? Two weeks later…One of my favorite parts of any plane experience, is the safety instructions. It’s fun to see the first time flyers trying to remember everything. You can almost hear their frantic eyes saying, “Wait. What do I do in the unlikely event of a water landing? Should I be taking notes? Why is everyone so calm?” Then there’s the frequent flyers who rarely even quiet their conversations to “turn their attention to the flight attendant who has some important safety instructions for them.”
Last semester I found myself sitting on planes quite often. I don’t mean this in a figurative way like I rediscovered my soul or anything of that nature. Nor do I mean to imply that I was sleep-traveling (although, how neat would that be?). I simply mean to say that I traveled a lot via airplane during the months of November and December. (I suppose I could have just said it that way to begin with, but I didn’t want to. Deal with it.)
I wouldn’t say I was a “frequent flyer,” but I would tell anyone who’d listen that I could get through security—shoes off, coat off, scarf off, giraffe necklace off, change out of pocket, laptop out of bag, liquids in a clear quart-sized Ziploc, boarding pass out, small talk with security guard, shoes back on, scarf and coat in hand to put on later, giraffe necklace thrown in bag with laptop and liquids, change forgotten in plastic bin—in under two minutes. This is, of course, if I was among other non-novices. If a first time flyer was anywhere in front of me, all bets were off.