This was the first time I've traveled this far by myself. I'm a big girl now, so I figured it had to happen eventually. I'm an independent person, but I never realized that I am, in fact, a very dependent person. So, thanks, Mom...Dad...David, for putting up with me and getting me to places I needed to go. I'm pretty spoiled and it was no fun getting my travel-traditional Starbucks chocolate muffin all by myself. David usually gets it for me. Pout.
I am proud of myself. When we travel, I take care of all of the arrangements and pack all of our information and have us trotting to the correct gate HOURS in advance. I LOVE TO PLAN. And I knew I'd be fine with that. But I dunno...it was weird...it was like a rite of passage for me...I'm all grown up...barely.
My first flight took me from ye old hometown to North Carolina. I always request a window seat, because I figure if we're gonna crash, I wanna see it coming...because boooorriiiinnnggg if you're in an aisle seat wondering what we're crashing into. So, I'm in 4A and thinks-because-he's-twice-my-size-should-get-half-of-my-seat is in 4C beside me. Yeah, the seats were labeled weird. It was A-C and then F-G...just a row of four. I'm like, "you guys realize you're missing some letters, right?" Anyways. So, 4C. He read the newspaper the entire time. I ALMOST asked him if I could have the funny papers, but he seemed pretty moody, so I left it alone. But, he opened up the paper DIRECTLY into my air space...right in front of me. I'm like, "oh, honey, this space is paid for...move." He scooted a little bit over when I pulled out my phone to watch Made of Honor and made a big show of having to re-situate myself to see the screen. Whatevs. And then, Coughy McCougherson was RIGHT behind me, to the right. The. whole. flight. I would have hated to be his seat buddy. And it was always the same cough...dry hacks and a gurgle. Hack hack hack hack wheeeeeeeze gurgle. Same every time. I'm thinking, "yeah, Coughy, stop smoking, cuz not only will your lungs rot, but you're bothering people with your rhythmic hack attacks." So rude.
My next flight was from NC to Virginia. Window seat again...10A this time. 10B was a young guy. Quiet. If they don't talk, I don't talk. I pulled out my phone again (once we were at a safe cruising altitude at which time I was able to operate any and all portable electronic devices, thank you) and started up my movie and through my earphones, I hear this little fairy voice. I stopped the movie and thought...what is that? Nothing. I started the movie again...but I again heard the little faint mumurings of a pixie. What the mess IS that? Then something caught my attention in front of me. There was a eyeball staring straight at me through the gap between the seats of 9A and 9B. GASP! Oh, wait...it's just a little girl. Whew. Then, I see this tiny rottweiler stuffed dog loping across the arm rest of the tiny blonde human. So, little Fairy Voice and Rottweiler carried on a conversation the entire flight...I can only imagine what they talked about. She looked about 4 years old...but her mom apparently thought she was 29 and in the process of writing her doctoral dissertation.
Mom: "Taylor, you have been remarkable this evening. I am very appreciative of the flexibility and patience you've shown to your father and I for the duration of our trip today."
Taylor: "Uh huh."
Mom: "The parenthetical explanations of our journey is at least in presumabality is of sound eyes of this establishment, who, though they are not infallible and are simply trying to make their way in the universe, which, someone, who is also, hopefully, of sound mind and body, despite the obvious disorder, which, if closely examined (but not so closely that you might pick up the disease) is far from perfect, but is nonetheless satisfactory. Try to get some rest, sweetie."
I wanted to tell the mom, "You realize your kid is 4, right?"
And then, Talky McLouderson was two rows behind me and as soon as we landed, he insisted on calling 73 people just so he could let everyone onboard know that we had, in fact, landed. It was remarkable how important he was.
This was, also, the first time I've ever been scared during a landing or take-off. My mom read somewhere that the most dangerous parts of flying are the eight minutes of a take-off and the eight minutes of a landing. Those are both my favorite parts. It's fast, it's furious, if you happen to crash while doing either, it'll be over quickly. As opposed to the engines going out when you're 30,000 feet in the air and having to coast aaalllllll the way down knowing, and you're like...well, should I read a magazine, or watch a movie...I mean, what, we've got time. But, for the last landing, it was extremely windy when we were descending. The pilot (who was a 12 year old) told us it'd be a little rough. I love how they under-exaggerate. I've flown in a Cessna before and that landing was INSANE! It looked JUST LIKE my fighter jet when I was playing Top Gun on the Nintendo back in the 80's. But I was a real human this time and in a non-pixelated real live airplane, so it wasn't as fun. We tilted back and forth...I could see the horizon tilt warning flashing in the cockpit...screaming "LEFT LEFT...RIGHT...RIGHT...SLOW DOWN." We ended up landing just fine, obviously, and...softly, in the distance, I heard the theme song from Top Gun...but it was the midi version from the game.
I got my rental car...to my surprise, I was upgraded to an SUV from a economy car for no extra charge...thank you, Avis. I got to my hotel room...a nicey nice king bed room...thank you, fabulous client. Unloaded everything, took my shower and was out by 1:30 a.m. Yeah, I'm a little sleepy today. I'll post pictures tomorrow of my adventures in this state o' lovers.