So, when I boarded the first of three flights that would take me from Barcelona to Kansas City, I knew I was in for a long 20 hours, but it'd all be worth it when I ran into my family's white and freckly arms.
Actually, the trouble began at the gate before I boarded because the blog gods follow me around to be sure nothing I do goes according to plan. My name was called immediately after I opened my book, and the nicest lady on Earth informed me that I was one of the luckiest lucksters to be chosen for a more thorough and "completely random" security check. I was escorted to a small room and sat down next to professional BMX rider Daniel Dhers! I couldn't believe my luck even though I'd just found out I was a luckster! Daniel Eff'n Dhers! How jealous are you right now?
I had no idea who he was either.
I guess I passed because they put me on the plane without my cell phone. Good luck with that shitty hunk of plastic, guys. I'm not a mula de drogas. I just look like one.
I opened my book just as they announced that something was wrong with the door, and we had to go back to the gate. I had one hour and a half to get through customs and no checked baggage. Daniel and I, I thought, would be fine.
Nine hours later, I was sprinting barefoot through the airport in Newark only to find my flight to Chicago was cancelled. No one seemed bothered by this except me. Why was no one bothered!?
I felt like Kerry at the special services desk would have a much easier time typing if her nails weren't made from reclaimed Liberace capes, but before I got up the nerve to tell her that, she found a flight that redirected me through Minneapolis. I shuttled to another terminal, and just as I opened my book something caught my peripheral. A damn pigeon was slithering its turd body out from under my seat. Sick.
We boarded, and I was in seat 1A (the only seat in the entire row) which meant the young gay flight attendant and I became quick besties. I rescued my book before he stowed it in a bin far, far away and opened it as the captain made the mechanical failure announcement. Bestie got my bag for me even though I was a little pissy as we deboarded the plane.
An eternity later, I sat down in the same 1A seat but on a different plane. A piece of ice fell on the cover of my book from the air vent above me, and I asked bestie if he had any blankets. I swear I don't know how he puts up with me.
I'd missed my flight to Kansas City by a long shot and was told to find Linda. Linda and I found each other but for different reasons.
"Hi. Are you Linda? I was told you could help me."
"I'm looking for a lost unaccompanied minor."
"I'm 28."
Linda brought me to a counter and informed me that there were no more flights to anywhere in the universe that night. I told her that I was pretty disappointed because I hadn't seen my family in over a year. That did it goddamnit. Never underestimate the frantic but productive compassion of a Midwestern divorcee and mother of two. I asked her if she thought the lost minor was okay, and she waved it away because she was pretty sure someone else had probably found him most likely.
After reenacting the entire plot of Taken and telling me about a girl from Belarus she'd helped earlier that was on her way to a sex trafficking ring, Linda hooked me up with an early morning flight, hotel room and $21 in meal vouchers. She wanted me to use them at the TGI Fridays at the hotel, so I could finally have myself an American meal. I promised her I would.
I contacted my family through the miracle of Facebook just as they were walking out the door to come pick me up then went to the hotel counter to check in.
"Uh-oh. This one's on the airline, isn't it?"
"Yep. I haven't seen my family in forever, but what's one more night, right?"
"Oh! You came back home for the 4th!"
"No. Can I use these at the IHOP, too, or just TGI Fridays?"
"Oh man. We keep telling them not to tell people they can use those here."
"Where can I use them?"
"Only at the airport. Sorry, hon."
Goddamnit, Linda!
I ate there anyway because I was starving but couldn't understand why the waitress was being so nice to me. She called me every name in the book: sweetie, honey, hon, babe, girly. It finally dawned on me that I was going to have to tip her! Yuck. It was okay, though, because the free water with free refills, giant portions and watching the Royals lose by a million points felt like America.
I cranked the air up and spread out in a star shape on the gigantic bed. The wake up call thing gave me a lot of anxiety, so I set the alarm, too. I was terrified that at 5 a.m. I was going to answer the phone in my sleep stupor with, "Babe! I swear to god if you don't stop touching my butt, I'm going to shove your butt up your butt!" Luckily, it was a recording.
I did not go shopping at the Mall of America like Linda had suggested as she was scheduling my 7 a.m. flight at 9 p.m. the night before and for the first and last time refused a continental breakfast because I had $21 dollars to spend at the airport.
I only managed to use two of them ($7 each), so I gave the last one to Lupita (I made up that name because I didn't ask her what her name was) who worked at the airport and looked like she could use a pick-me-up. I told her she had to use the full amount or she'd lose the difference, and as I walked away I turned to see she'd spent a total of $2.17 on a coffee.
Goddamit, Lupita!
The flight to Kansas City was almost entirely empty. I strewed my crap everywhere and started a crossword puzzle because I'd finished my book. Before I knew it and because I'm not very good at crossword puzzles, we started our descent. I looked out my window, and I kid you not, I began to cry! I cried like a big baby and really freaked the flight attendants out.
I tore out of the airplane and surprisingly wasn't tackled. The great thing about Kansas City "International" airport is that it's little, and you can see your loved ones the moment you come out of the thing. I ran into my mom's white and freckly arms and both of us noticed the chauffeur tearing up out of the corner of our own blurry eyes.
I guess he gets excited when he sees families reunited at airports, too.
One time I saw Al Sharpton at the airport, and I pointed right in his face
and said, "Dad! That's Al Sharpton!" And my dad said, "Yep."
and said, "Dad! That's Al Sharpton!" And my dad said, "Yep."
