Humanity

Airport 2: the return

The return always sucks. It does. Firstly you have ‘the leaving’ which is a punch in the gut.

What? I have to leave? This doesn’t go on for ever and ever? I can’t just sit and reminisce every night while the fireflies dance? No? HOW DARE YOU interject reality and flight delays into my idyll?! How fucking daaaaaare you.

But I’m here again, I’ve done this before, the leaving. It doesn’t get better and I find myself looking for ways of escaping the mundane and the daily. Its only 24 hours later. One of the ways I tried to shake it up was going to the ER for six hours last night. This was not a good idea, but my brain spent a hell of a lot of time convincing itself that I was going to go septic from an infection and die without seeing my kids again. (they are at their dad’s this whole week for their once a year ‘whole week’ with their dad.)

This is most definitely not a good way to escape, and I would not suggest this to anyone, for any reason. Between the airport and the ER, I have seen the tops and bottoms of humanity. Literally. ALthough I suppose the 1 percent at both ends don’t use public airports. true. My brain, i think, leapt on the opportunity that having the kids all tucked away provides. All of a sudden, she did the math, realized she was working every other day this week and the timesuck could only be squeezed in to the one spot, directly after disembarking. One must schedule these emergencies, you see.

you can take the kids away from the mother, but you cannot take the mother out of the mother.

Its only been a little over 24 hours since I left and I’m bumming. I spent more time with a lot of Wisconsin nurses than you’d ever believe, and it was lovely, and I have a new appreciation for how different cultures can be within a group that looks ‘just like the other one’. Nope. Not the same. I ate cheese curds and learned how to make a mojito. Very delicious, I might add. My suggestion is white rum. Or leave it out and just have the rest. Very delicious.

I miss my best friend and wish I could see her more than once a year. But I think we are lucky we can both swing that, so I guess I’ll rest there, in the morass of humanity crawling and flying at all the different stages.

And maybe I’ll get caught up on the laundry. or that book I’m supposed to be writing.

man in blue crew neck shirt wearing black framed eyeglasses
Yeah, you know this guy had to hold this pose *just too long. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Humanity

Airport Life.

There are a million and a half things to wonder about when you arrive at an airport two to three hours early(yes, thank you to my father, not the tsa, for this trait).

Do stewardesses have to take turns and work the desks?

Why is it so much easier for men to talk to each other? Or is it just me, that i can’t talk to strangers? I don’t think its me? Is it the shared subjects, sports, weather, man stuff?

There could be some good done in the world if we were all forced to hang out in airports once in a while. I mean, the humanity. Yes, too, the priviledge and the money-spent hanging in invisible numbers above each person’s head.

But the tremendous variety in people. Saw a daughter guiding her mother through the security checkpoints. mom, with no english, tiny and wrapped in a beautiful sari. The guards were kind and accomodating, while still doing their job.

Why would anyone ever do dip? Why? And why after the first time, a second time? Whats that about? You love the drool feeling?

Astonishing.

Couples of color separated by a guard, for a ’check’. The resigned, the terror right below that, of anything that could happen.

I’m watching moms chase kids, some with partners, some organized to the very tips of their toes, some just kind of winging it with the help of a partner. ALthough, honestly, I bet there is no ’winging it’ in airports anymore. Maybe not even in parenting. The times, they have changed.

Whats up with bringing dogs?

I sit here and miss my kids. Even while i am completely aware of how i’ve settled into another stage in my life, just like that. I’m walking through an airport and into a trip just for myself, just like that.

There is something big in it, in this small trip.

The work is still there, the flurry of childcare and job restructure, it is there.

Why haven’t i felt like a grownup til now? I’m freaking 48, you know. I wonder what the real name for this feeling is. I miss my kids, yes, but they’re fine. its all fine. and i am here for a long weekend, in this surreal travel spot.

Airport life. It would be amazing to stay. So glad I am not.
Humanity

Today and then Tomorrow.

My best friend arrives tomorrow.

Haven’t seen her in eight years. She flew here when my dad had his heart attack and helped us with the decision to let him go. She’s a nurse and just the whole world for me as best friends go. I met her when we worked in the same store in Key West. She was my boss. She was the first person I knew in her thirties who still seemed cool. (oh boy, i was young.) She still seems cool and its been twenty something years.

and she knows everything i’m about to type because i’ve already told her.

-i’m scared she’s going to not like me. (ten minutes after i set out for the airport, this will go away.)

-i’m scared I’ll forget to feed her again and she will think i mean something by it. (past event. i am soooo clueless sometimes. oh my god.) in truth, i don’t think that will ever happen again because it was so scarring.

-our plans include lots of tv, a beach, plenty of boxes or bags of candy, some alcohol, maybe a pack of cigarettes and i might make her visit a mansion in newport, and maybe have dinner out somewhere.

-and thats it, i mean, really, thats the whole and all of what i can think about right now. dither tither to and fro and all that mumble jumble.

-also, did i mention that the kids are away for the first four days of her visit?

heh heh heh. hopefully we will not end up on a police blotter.

OH MY GOD, I AM SO EXCITED.

kiss kiss, mwah.

-me.

photo of girl carrying her sister
Here we are as children, when we didn’t know each other and were slightly more Asian. . . I’m the one in red, but the color suits her better than me. Photo by Migs Reyes on Pexels.com