Thursday, December 29, 2011


Okay.  I am not exactly sure how I did this – but I have made to the airport with a few minutes to spare. I don’t like to cut leaving New York this close. I must be a sight to the man who is in the middle seat, stuck between me and a Nordic looking chic. Little beads of sweat cap the crown of my head. I am praying that they won’t slide down my cheeks. My sweater is already damp from running across a small island to make this flight. I am pretty sure my mascara is going to start running soon, too.

I had a plan. I really did. I was going to clean the loo, kitchen, then vacuum the area rug, then fold the laundry, unplug the electronics and water the plant. How that plant is still alive is beyond me. That poor thing gets water when I remember which is sometimes a month later. I guess everything, plants, people and animals all have a sheer will to survive. Some stronger than others. Clearly this plant is one tough cookie.

Then morning came, as in this morning, and nothing was done. So like a super sonic rabbit on speed I was racing around cleaning, choking on cleanser fumes (yummy), eating and drinking and freezing as much food as I could. Why did I go grocery shopping three days before I left? I think I thought it would be more healthy and cost effective. Ugga-bugga. I pick the wrong times to be sensible. 

And for some reason I did not pack a darn thing. So this morning between cleaning and eating, I was rifling through the closet looking for warm things, but too bulky things, because I needed to pack three pairs of shoes, toiletries and one party dress into the little rolling bag. Now that the airlines want $25 per checked bag, I protest, and pack 50 pounds into two carry-ons. Take that Northwest Airlines!

I made one last trip to toss out the garbage and the grabbed my bags, locked the door, ran out of the building and headed to the Uptown 6 train so I could catch the M60 to LaGuardia. I am sure it would have been easier to catch one of the many, many, many readily available cabs on First Avenue. But it was much cheaper to take the bus.

Of course I boarded the SLOWEST moving M60 known to man, arrived at the airport later than I had hoped, stood in a SUPER DUPER LOOOOOONG security line. Damn good thing I did not have to check bags in. Because then I could have stood in an EVEN LOOOOOOOONGER line. After that I ran like an insane person fleeing Bellevue Hospital to Gate 8 just as they began announcing the flight was oversold and we were not leaving until six people gave up their seats. Thinking that this could take hours, I flopped onto the ground and crossed my legs. 

Then seconds later this announcement, “Ladies and gentlemen in the boarding area, wanted to let you know that we have six volunteers giving up their seats and we are still anticipating an on-time departure and ask for your cooperation as we board this aircraft bound for the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota. We’d like to begin boarding those traveling with small children, needing a little extra time and our guests in the First Class cabin.” After that, they boarded the aircraft from the back to the front, at a speed I have never seen.

Which is now why I am having heat stroke in my seat, clutching my purse for dear life, sweat rolling down my cheeks, minutes from take-off. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I make things so much harder? Why did I wait for the last minute? Why didn’t I just take a cab? Why don’t I just check in luggage? Why do I make everything in my life a competitive sport?

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