I'm writing today from the Detroit International Airport, where I have about three hours before my flight to Amsterdam boards. This morning started entirely too early, and I'm already dragging ... not sure how I'm going to feel in 20 hours when this trip is over with.
Peter dropped me off at the airport before he went to drill and before the sun came up. I'm still getting used to flying out of the tiny Columbia airport. When I lived in Vegas, the McCarren Airport was so touchy! If you flew out of D Gate during the busy hours, you needed to make sure that you'd given yourself about three hours in advance of the flight to get through the security an across the terminal in time. At the Columbia airport you get through baggage check, security, and terminal check-in in about half an hour. That left me a little over two hours to watch the sun come up over the trees.
There was a woman behind me coughing as though she was about to die. Another woman came and sat next to her and said, "I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who will be hacking on the flight today." They laughed. I suddenly had the urge to run. I have an immune system that rivals a six-month old in terms of being able to fight off infection and the last thing I cared to have before I left the USA was some patriotic influenza. I felt it might be in bad form to hand these women surgical masks, and instead got up quickly to leave.
This would be when my backpack decided it no longer wanted to be a backpack and attempted instead to become a bucket (the zippers broke). I suppose that if it was going to happen, it was better in Columbia than in Entebbe. I was fortunate that the gift shop in the airport had big carry-on style shoulder bags. It was roomier than my backpack and didn't cost an arm and a leg.
As I transferred my belongings to the new bag (reminding myself, "passport, wallet, laptop, power cord, mouse, inhaler, voice recorder, chocolate") I had the weirdest feeling that I was forgetting something. I thought I triple checked the bag and all fifteen hundred obligatory pockets...but not close enough. I was sitting on the plane as it taxi'd away from the gate when I realized that I had forgotten to secure my Mp3 charger.
sigh.
It's been that kind of a morning.
I gave up my seat to a family that had small children and needed to sit together; again a fortuitous event since I ended up in a window seat on a single seated row (little plane, one seat in right row, two seats in the left). I was saved from claustrophobia, amongst other things, today.
The Detroit International Airport is nice. The underground tunnel has a gorgeous wall paneling that lights up and plays soft, ethereal music. It reminded me of those baby toys that attach to a kid's crib and play music with plastic sea creatures and little air bubbles. My theory is that a bigger version of said toy might have the same calming effect on the people running at a break-neck sprint across the airport. Who knows.
Given that this is my first international flight, I'm obviously fighting the normal nerves and jitters of a first time traveler. I'm finally getting excited though. I love to fly. I don't like the stress involved in airports, but I love being in the air. There's so much potential in travel. Potential to be introduced to new things, to be re-acquainted with old things, and to see things that defy photography. I may be doing it with a body that is wracked with fear shakes, but I am absolutely taking this journey. Talk adrenaline rush!
Well...that's it for right now. Until next time!
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