10 July 2013

in transit or loathing air travel or karma



I think I overheard at least 500 complaints as I made my way through Louis Armstrong International Airport yesterday; I was there for roughly two hours. By the time I made it to the overcrowded gate B12, I had reached my saturation level of tolerance and positioned myself away from potential complainers. Help me.

Yes, most things most people voiced were indeed true and a few were running through my head, but, really...who gave everyone such liberty to say those things out loud, to strangers, again and again? Mamma Mia! Shut up and deal, people!

Whew! Thanks for listening to MY complaint. This is my party and I'll cry if I want to.

I like to think that what happened when we boarded the plane was a bit of a reward for good behavior! Young One scored a cool chat with the pilots and was invited into the tiny cockpit of the US Airways plane. Little girl was even allowed to have a seat, touch the instrument panel and "make the plane talk." Funny how that act of kindness melted away all the negativity that had built inside of me.

After the visit, I took a deep breath and headed to our seats, the second-to-last row of the tiny plane, and quickly donned my headphones lest the complainers rob me of my bliss.



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