I am sitting on an airplane alone. Of course, I am not completely alone. There is the woman seated ahead of me who is channeling Willow Smith, whipping her hair over the seat. There is no in-flight entertainment. So, I will spend an hour staring at a pony tail in desperate need of conditioner. Across from me is a 20-something, speaking French, picking away at her cuticles and flinging them into the aisle. I, however, am not traveling with these people. I don’t have a spouse to talk to or children to entertain. I am alone and is actually kind of relaxing. Well, I am relaxed now. That wasn’t the case 10 minutes ago. I almost didn’t make it on this flight. I arrived at the airport an hour early only to discover all of the parking lots were full. Where the hell are all of these people going? Perhaps, they are trying to leave town before the impending storm hits. Forecasters are predicting 20 inches of snow over the next few days. I have never seen 20 inches of anything, besides the buldge in Jon Hamm’s pants.
I parked in a lot in another zip code and caught a shuttle to the airport. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t care that I was going to miss my flight. Nor did the dozen or so other people we had to pick up. They are planners or psychics and arrived really early. One woman in particular was really pissing me off. She was chatting, cackling and taking her time boarding the bus. I wanted to scream, “Too slow. You lose. Go! Go! Go!” I refrained.
I cannot miss this flight. I am going to New York City for a screening of Jason Bateman’s directorial debut, “Bad Words.” I had posters of him on my wall when I was younger. I listened to music on my pink tape player and dreamed about him, Kenny Rogers, Ralph Macchio, etc. (Yes, I have issues.)
I raced to the self check-in kiosk. “It is too late to check in for this flight.” I nearly dropped to my knees screaming, “Nooooo!” (Yes, with that many o’s. That is how upset I was) Panicked, I went to the ticket counter. The ticketing agent, a younger girl, giggled “Oh, you gonna miss it.” Is that funny? I pleaded, “Please, I cannot miss this flight. ” She was too young to know the stress that goes into planning a trip sans children. A gentleman offered to try and print my boarding pass. “It’s printing. You lucky, but you better run.” By this point, the female ticketing agent was laughing. Does Delta Airlines send their employees to the Kanye West Etiquette School? I didn’t have time to put up a fight or give a stern lecture. After I got through security I ran. I ran as fast as I could. Picture Forest Gump with breasts. I am not exactly graceful. This bra wasn’t made for sprinting either. My girls looked like they were head banging. I made it to the gate in the nick of time. I am sweaty and may have pulled a muscle, but I coming.