Inside A (Crazy) Woman's Mind At The Airport
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
When I travel, I become this heightened crazy version of myself.
Let's call her Theresa. Because I've known a lot of Theresa's in my life and they've almost all been crazy.
Theresa doesn't make her first appearance at the airport, no she likes to show up about 24 hours in advance. She's punctual like that. She swings by the day before a trip and likes to make sure everything is in order in my house (life) before we can leave. Some of her favorite activities include cleaning the fridge, organizing the junk drawer, shoving shit under beds and purging every closet.
I inherited Travel Theresa from my mom- only on a lighter scale. (For now.) My mom's travel persona has been known to do such crazy things the night before a trip as tearing wallpaper off a wall, re-grouting the bathroom tile, and varnishing a floor. I fear I'll get to that someday, it's just a matter of time. The writing is on the wallpaper.
The day of travel, Theresa likes to get to the airport at least two hours early. She just can't help herself.
She only carries on because she likes the added stress of rolling her suitcase through security as well as nervously wondering if there will be enough overhead bin storage when she gets on the plane. It makes her day more exciting.
She rushes to the security line and treats choosing "the right line" as if she were choosing the correct wire to disconnect a bomb. In a matter of two seconds she goes through every possibility in her head- go behind the elderly who don't carry on much but are slightly too slow? Or the busy mom with her hands full who might murder someone if you ask her to take off her belt? What about the stoned college kids who aren't sure why they're here, nor do they care.
She chooses the college kids. And of course it's the wrong choice. They can't find their IDs or their boarding passes. They might even be at the wrong airport. Rule #1 of the Airport Games- whichever line you choose, it will always the be slowest.
And so she waits and huffs and tries not to notice the woman she was once "even with" who is now already through security and walking to the bar.
As she passes through the metal detector without her shoes on she walks on the balls of her feet as if she's never touched a floor so dirty in her life and she's completely disgusted about it. Which is bullshit. She's walked barefoot in much dirtier places. Like down the streets of Mexico. And in the Rail bathroom in Lincoln. But for this one moment, she pretends she's a clean princess who hates taking off her shoes in public.
Once through security she goes into Olympic mode. Olympic Speed Walker mode I should say, which is a real thing, my sister tried to qualify for it one year, bless her heart.
Never mind that Theresa is plenty early for her flight, she is in the BIGGEST RUSH EVER. If you're standing on the moving sidewalk you better move the hell over or she will plow you over. She's rude and pushy like that. Standers on the right, crazy bitches on the left. Why is this such a hard concept, people? WHY?
The only place she is rushing to is the bar. She needs a Bloody Mary to "calm her down."
Once she has her Bloody, she's happy. But like anything in her life, this too shall pass.
While enjoying the last sips of her drink she'll suddenly panic that she heard an announcement about her flight and she'll bolt from the bar far too early. But there was never an announcement. There never is. Just crazy Theresa being crazy is all.
And so she'll go to her gate and sit and wait for her B boarding group to be called so she can board the plane with all of the other "B class" people. She'll curse Southwest in her head that she got a B boarding pass because damn it she checked in right on time. She watched her phone up until the minute and clicked "check in" right on the dot. Of course she did, she's Theresa.
It will kill her when all of the families board between A & B and she'll wish for that one moment she had kids simply for the joy of boarding early. But such is life.
It's not until she's on board, with her suitcase safely above her, and a passenger next to her not taking up her leg or arm space, when she can finally relax.
And then the flight attendant gets on the intercom and starts to sing.
Which brings me to part 2 of this post: Dear Southwest Flight Attendant... coming next week.