I love to travel, especially by plane. Maybe it’s because I didn’t do it very often as a kid or, somehow, Hollywood makes airports seem so glamorous, running for your plane (which I did in the San Antonio airport. NOT glamorous!), grabbing a bite to eat then boarding your plane, the nervous excitement that bubbles inside you as the jet engines push you back in your seat while taking off, the flight attendant (oh, you know she’s been part of the mile-high club since the 70s) politely offering you a complementary beverage, the unmistakable screech of tires on the runway as you land, the hustle and bustle to hurriedly de-board because everyone needs to be where they’re going right this very instant.
Even the crying little babies are charming. Well, kind of. But, like just about everything in life, there is a dark side to anything awesome, and for me and my commercial air travels, that would be the damn recycled air. There’s always that one person who is hacking up a lung with green goo waterfalling from their nose. Or if their nose doesn’t resemble Niagara, they’re sneezing that shit everywhere!
And it never fails, there is no tissue or towel or covered hand in sight. So that microscopic disease you just blew out of your body gets sucked up into your first class vent and spewed out my coach vent. (Maybe the lesson here is that I should just fly first class. But then you would just sneeze on me sitting right beside you, no recycled air needed. Well, shit, there goes that idea.) And who catches that nasty little buger? Oh yes, that would be this gal who insists upon flying from a humid, sea-level climate to an arid, mountainous (and freezing!) one and back again. My poor little immune system just doesn’t know what to do with itself with all that change going on. (I think I could make some sort of political reference here about change being not so bueno. Oh, well I guess I just did.) (And that, folks, is about as political as I will ever get on yall, scouts honor.)
Any-wayyy, I rant about this right now because here I sit, with my head in the proverbial vise from all the sinus pressure and my very own green Niagara Falls. At this point, I think I should take stock in Kleenex. Or maybe just buy the company outright. Oh, and guess what? Go on, guess! I get to do the whole commercial airplane thing again next week. That might sound all snarky and sarcastic, but the fact is, I am, predictably, SUPER EXCITED! It means that school will be over (for a few weeks anyway) and I will get to run into Boyfriend’s arms at the airport where we’ll hug and kiss each other in front of everyone, just like they do in the movies (collective, AWWWWW!!)
