The Airport - Part Two - Skin Chips and Pit Stains

Thank goodness for my phone. My texting phone. The one that Kev got me for Christmas. How on earth did I ever travel without it. It gave me the ability to text Kev at every second to tell him what was happening, what was going on around me, and jokes - you always have to have jokes in the mix - it keeps things real.



I'm sure Kev was thrilled.



Texting is way better than calling, though. For one... I don't tie up Kev's time. He is a very busy bee these days. For two... I have this "thing" about talking on the phone in public. I hate it! And I just know that every one is listening to me. So, I usually have to walk the airports looking for the most remote spot to hunch down in a corner and talk on the phone. Besides the fact that every one is just dying to know my business.... I prefer to talk to Kev in our secret language. And I won't tell you what that is.... because it is a secret!



Would you like to know the other thing that I am paranoid about? Taking pictures of things when I am in public and by myself. It is horrid and creepy.... and I know that every one stops what they are doing to look at me and say that I am weird. Out loud.



I had my camera with me.... and had all of these great opportunities to snap photos of things I saw or did..... you know... just for you ... my blog readers. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Yes, I got a few shots here and there.... but only after I put a paper bag over my head. Which messed up my hair. Or maybe it was already messy because fixing it is a chore.



Bottom line is that I may walk around with jingle bells on my shoes... and honk a bicycle horn when I want people to clear a path for me.... and quack like a duck - out loud - whenever I feel like it. But that doesn't mean that I want people to stare at me when I take a picture, or listen to me when I talk on the phone..... or watch me when I dance in public in the Magic Kingdom.



Now that you know me a little better.... can we please move on to the story.....



So, the flight said DELAYED.



After texting Kev a million times expressing my dislike for traveling and such. I picked myself up by my boot straps and went shopping. For snacks and magazines. There were things I needed to know.... like how to decorate my sun room, how to grill the best burger, and what was Kate up to now ( from Jon & Kate plus 8).



The flight is boarding!!!



It wasn't too long of a wait. Great. Things are looking up. I gather my stuff , show my ticket, and skip outside to the plane. WAIT... OUTSIDE? That's right... it was going to be a little one.... but I had NO idea how little it would be until I saw it.....



The pilot was waiting outside the plane to greet us.... or wish us luck. I'm not sure which. There was probably about 30 of us who had to fit inside this plane. Which leads me to my title of this post.

I've decided that close quarters with 29 random people = unsanitary conditions. And I'm not saying that I was completely clean either. I'm sure that I contributed to the "people dust".

I started this bizarre OCD behavior of looking around and noticing EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF DIRT, HAIR, and TOE JAM. It was almost hard for me to breathe... which made me start to sweat.... which added to the aromas..... which made my nose hurt.

Is it just me or after a long flight do you feel as if someone has been sitting in your lap the entire way? In their skivvies. Eating a Polish sausage with kraut. And did I mention they were German.

No? You think I'm crazy?

That is how I felt. Like I needed a shower and some clean clothes. Or maybe I needed a shower because I had forgotten to take one that morning. I don't recall. Regardless, I wasn't feeling so great. And this was just a short little flight... 30 minutes max... to Atlanta. It was just the beginning of my trip.

And then we landed.

I exited my tiny little plane. Walked in to the terminal. Looked up at the screen to check my next flight. And it said.....

Flight to Tampa..... DELAYED.

To be continued......