[Note from the editor: Our intrepid travelers found themselves back at an airport much sooner than might have been wise from a mental-health perspective, but when a family reunion beckons, families reune (surprisingly, in Spanish you can just about say it like that and get away with it).]
There may be some secret law of the universe that stipulates that if you leave just a little extra time for your trip to the airport, you will meet no traffic, but if you leave somewhat less time than you ought to have, the traffic will be savage. This morning we were in the former group, so we had some time on our hands, but by now we’re good at the glazed-eye airport thing.
In our efforts to get as far away from the big screen in the waiting area at our gate that was broadcasting some sort of pseudo-news at raised volume, we inadvertently opened ourselves up to being bombarded from a different direction by “I need a lover that won’t drive me crazy.” I think this might reasonably serve as a modern example of the phrase, “between a rock and a hard place.” If we add in the impressively loud and obnoxious machine whining emanating from a near but unknown source, we acknowledge that I now wish I hadn’t misplaced that one-day pass to the US Airways VIP lounge. Going to investigate the awful sound might provide me with information but no comfort, as I don’t think they’d make it stop if I asked, even if I said pretty please. On the bright side, I have both an electrical outlet and genuine, working wifi, and I don’t have to sit on the floor outside the bathroom to get it. If I remember correctly, Limonada gives Logan Airport high marks.
I feel certain that she would award bonus points for the presence of Dunkin’ Donuts in the terminal. I was glad to see it, as I had been commissioned to bring her a chocolate stick. I figured I’d have to drag us on a side trip on our way to the airport, but the airport website helpfully lists venders and their locations. We had made some progress in the airport security line and were busy mentally reviewing the location of our liquids and getting prepared to take off our shoes, when I noticed the Dunkin’ a short distance down the hall. What could we do but duck under the stanchion (there’s that word again), leaving one line (long) to join another line (short).
They had chocolate donuts, and they had stick donuts, but nothing in the intersection of those two sets. We got one of each, and hope that they won’t be squashed during our travels–I’ve been told often that items tend to shift during flight.
We enjoyed a few minutes without the gargantuan mystery noise, but it’s back. I begin to contemplate what I know about the decibel threshold implicated in permanent hearing loss.
They’ve just made an announcement that this flight to Phoenix is oversold, and can they have volunteers to give up their seats and fly on a later one going through Charlotte, in exchange for a $425 voucher, etc. It causes me to reflect on the theoretical existence of a point (fixed somewhere in the indeterminate future) at which I won’t consider such an exchange of my short term time, comfort and convenience for some amount of future economic gain. My reluctant inquiry brings a sigh of relief. They don’t need us.
Overheard in the jetway, Ninja to Loquita: “but technically, in the wizarding world, you’re an adult.” If you’re curious about the context, you’ll have to take it up with them–I’m not going to inquire.
I can “be prepared for unforeseen multi-story rescue. The life-saving solution when time is running out.” Effective for use up to heights of 260 feet.
I can “make my jewelry sparkle like new in seconds, just like the jeweler does.” It’s dual action.
I’m promised that the “clever flickering fake TV helps prevent home break-ins.”
I can get a wine glass with a sippy cup lid, and a camera lens travel mug.
I can get my steaks “beautifully boxed.”
Don’t forget Star Trek pajamas and leopard-print compression socks.
I can “feel like royalty with a museum-quality watch cabinet,” with 22 felt-covered slots that can give my adored watches “a glorious home between wearings.”
Thoughtful companies can help me get rid of bunions, improve my posture, make me three inches taller or look two sizes slimmer, relieve my lower back pain, and give me fuller-looking hair.
For my pets, I can get staircases to help them get up on my bed, deluxe gates (rubbed walnut finish), an elevated bed with matching awning, and even a rectangle of artificial turf complete with scented hydrant to provide a focal point.
There’s a safety system for carrying my youngster on my shoulders—complete with chest band, ankle straps and padded seat.
In terms of statuary, I can get a “Giant Foo Dog of the Forbidden City” Statue, a Versailles Cherub Urn and Plinth, and a “Bigfoot, the Bashful Yeti” Tree Sculpture. Also on offer: the gnome on a motorcycle, a line of ducks doing the Can-can, and the Easter Island “Ahu Akivi Moai” Monolith Statue. Then there’s a daschund with a superhero cape and matching mask and the squirrel in hardhat and climbing harness (hand panted). I’m going to need a bigger yard.
I’m thinking about the best place for a “life-like Tea Leaf Corkscrew Topiary.”
Who hasn’t sighed and thought, “what I really need is a Combination Paper Towel Holder/Electronics Charging Station (with optional Bluetooth Speaker)”?
Finally, there’s the Lamborghini wireless computer mouse (with working headlights!).
I find myself casting about for a suitable response to all this bounty.
We checked no bags this trip, and I know our carryons are in the overhead compartment because we needed to get something warm out of them early in the flight (for our convenience, blankets are available for purchase). At this point the odds of any of our luggage going to Miami are pretty low, which is a comfort. At least we’re likely to encounter some traffic on our way home from the airport. How are we going to develop any character if things are too easy?
At any rate, I’m ready to say hello, Utah!