I just returned to Tucson from another brief stint in Iowa. I heard Marilynne Robinson speak, and had more good times hanging out with Brian.
On my trip back, the usual benevolent travel-luck-fairy that seems to follow me around when I'm on the move apparently had better things to do. I gained a sense of foreboding as soon as I sat down on the flight out from Cedar Rapids and the surly fifteen year old (with hair so long it managed to tickle the skin on my arm the whole flight no matter how far I leaned towards the aisle) who was my seat-mate greeted me with the sullen question, "Ever flown before?" and then proceeded to tell me that she herself was "forced" to fly all the time, traveling between two estranged parents. I tried not to say anything condescending, listen politely and be supportive of all her various hobbies she felt the need to demonstrate (like singing and drawing), but I was fervently glad that flight only lasted half an hour.
Upon landing, I darted away from the startled girl before she had time to ask me for my contact information, and entered the sanctuary of Chicago, O'Hare. There, I discovered my flight was delayed beyond my three hour layover. I called people until my cell phone battery started to look weak, and then wandered off to find the least unpleasant place to whittle away my remaining time.
Before long, I was approached by a very friendly, blonde-haired, attractive, slightly older than me, flannel pants and croc wearing lady. I was sitting by a window drinking an $8 corona and reading The Devil Wear Prada - while not wearing anything resembling Prada myself. She asked if she could sit at my table. I said yes. She started talking. I think she was a lesbian. She was fun to talk to. I mentioned Brian frequently.
I eventually left her company to go to my gate, so I could sit there for over and hour before I got on my plane, only to sit between two people who did not speak English for two hours before we were airborne.
I finally made it to Phoenix four hours later than I should have, and of course missed the last flight to Tucson. I haggled them into putting me on the last airport shuttle, and my glorious parents rescued me from he dingy Circle K at Orange Grove and Thornydale just after midnight. 2:00 am Iowa time.
Stan is still waiting for me at the airport. Poor little fellow.
Now, I get to celebrate my homecoming by attending my favorite class ever, Painting I.
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2 comments:
this internet cafes radio is on repeat
See, this is why I have headphones and a book. Because people try and talk to me. I don't know why, but they do. And never anyone interesting, oh no. Usually people who want spare change/convert me.
$8 corona? how did that taste?
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