Day 1-Tradition

August, 2011 § 1 Comment

I guess it’s time to start writing. I promised myself (and others) I would write everything down. There’s something about writing that makes your thoughts so real. It’s as if, our thoughts, without escaping through tongue or ink, are merely dreams that may or may not come true. Dreams that, if they don’t come to pass, are really nothing but a self-entertaining consciousness.

It’s amazing the energy I wake up with when my subconscious knows that arousing me from sleep will mean getting on a plane, sitting in an airport, arriving to a desired destination. This tells me that it’s not only my heart and spirit that love to travel; my body and brain must love it, too. I woke up with a 10am energy at 5am.

Getting ready and packing the last of my belongings was a no-brainer. This packing process (aside from the laptop fiasco) has been surprisingly chaos free. Am I learning? Probably not, it’s probably just the luck of the draw.

Monica had Juanes playing when we got in the car to leave. I fooled myself into thinking that because I remember the lyrics and their meaning, my Spanish isn’t rusty. We’ll see about that. We heard a Paul Simon song on the way. He gave his girl permission to call him “Hal”. Or was it, “Al”?

Check-in (despite the first impression of an eternally long line caused by a cancelled flight) was also a no-brainer. I, of course, as tradition calls for, went upstairs for Starbucks between check-in and security. I remember thinking how funny it is that I have a tradition no one partakes in and that, outside of my traveling patterns, I don’t have too many traditions, at all, if any. Maybe having no traditions can be a tradition. No, that doesn’t make sense.

When I reached Gate B17 I strategically placed myself next to two Asian men. Yes, it was strategy. No one else can be trusted. I’ll explain later.

As soon as I sat down and starting making phone calls to American Airlines to get credit for my miles, the cold drowsiness hit me like the wind on your face when you go sledding. Unavoidable, unbreakable, shocking. What happened to my tall caramel macchiato? I feel cheated.

The plane begins to board. Yes! This plane is one of the teeny tiny, grown-men-hit-their-heads-on-the-roof ones. Do you know what that means? It means boarding does not entail walking through a tunnel with airline advertisements and getting herded like cattle onto the auto-orb. It means we will all walk, freely, concrete under our feet, a straight line only if it’s what we choose, to our transportation. Yes, transportation. It’s not magical or unattainable. It’s simple as a bus and I know this because I walked out to it and climbed the stairs and boarded it of my own free will and fancy.

The plane I have chosen and I are now going down the runway. I think I’d like to nap, I’m tired again.


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