TIME TO FLY HOME IN ROSE-COLORED GLASSES

photo credit: Elena Penkova Pink glasses via photopin (license)

For once, I’ve decided to view my unfolding leg of travel through rose-colored glasses.

  • I woke up spontaneously at 4:13am instead of the agreed upon 4:45am (agreed upon with my alarm), but it took me half an hour longer to get ready than I thought it would. Less stress at 5am is always a good thing.
  • I thought I had forgotten my phone in my business partner’s car and was going to call him to bring it back…but…(note to self: memorize important people’s cell phone numbers). I panicked for only a couple of seconds before I found my phone in my briefcase. And right on top, too!
  • I babbled incoherently to the ticket agent about the time I had forgotten my ID at the airport (see EPIC FAIL = TSA PAT DOWN, THOROUGH TYPE), and she was only alarmed for about five seconds before I produced my drivers license. She threw me a bone and said it was “early.” (It’s always “early” for me, if you get my drift.)
  • Tomorrow is the day I’ve committed to pulling in the carbohydrate reins (notice no one ever says they’re starting to eat healthier today), but I bought only two croissants at the airport bakery.
  • When I knocked one of the croissants off the counter, the very accommodating (accommodating not reaccommodating) woman behind the counter got me a new one. She said, “We won’t sell that one now,” referring to the one on the floor. Even though I deprived the bakery of some 2 1/2 cents, she was gracious enough to laugh when I said, “I hope you have a dog.”
  • I was pleasantly surprised when I saw TSA pre-check on my boarding pass (the coveted security line where you don’t have to remove shoes or laptop and where, if there should happen to be a terrorist, the screening is woefully inadequate.)

The flight was uneventful. No reaccommodated passengers. No YouTube videos to go viral. I was seated in the last row of the plane—aisle not window—mere inches from the lavatory door, which gave me lots of nice interaction with lots of not-so-nice people. I love meeting new people.

When I was on the airport shuttle to the economy parking lot, I found myself getting a titch annoyed that “3A” can refer to either the shuttle stop or the row, which are—I found out the hard way—nowhere near each other.

My travel angel tried to help me by prompting me to get off at the 3A shuttle stop, but as I was about to step down from the shuttle, I realized it was wrong. Since I was too embarrassed to turn around, I got off. I figured walking was better than making a fool of myself (and I figured it would help with the carbohydrates-here-I-come day).

Then I realized, duh, another shuttle would be along in a couple of minutes, and I could just jump back on to go to row 3A. Which I did. Only the shuttle doesn’t go to row 3A. It gets you about 1/4 of a mile away from it. I hoofed it over to row 3A and then decided shuttle stop 3A was correct after all. So I walked 1/4 mile in a different direction and lo and behold, there was my car. Just think! I probably offset my caloric intake of the day by about 0.0000004 percent.

Imagine how much more upset I would have been without my rose-colored glasses.

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