Thursday, March 1st, 2018
Mexico to Maine part two
Stumble around Atlanta airport trying to get oriented to language and Shopping Shopping Shopping everywhere. I slow down and turn off my perception and simply follow signs. Dumb and dumber. Tu ned out except tor signs. I find the speed train to correct terminal. I sit on the bench seat for those who need it. That’d be me. A sudden jolt sends a handsome Irish Soccer player into my lap. Even without his uniform, his calves would have given him away. His teammates laugh so he sits on my lap with his arms around my neck the whole way to the next terminal. All jolly and laughing.
But still not awake. Heading for coffee. No Starbucks in sight. I settle. Battered by neon and constant television I know I have to sit and settle. I choose frozen yoghurt with strawberried and pineapple and sit. Sit near laughing airport employees. Lousy bosses being ridicules the world over.
Have reached my limit of humanity. I see moles on cheeks,chipped nail polish on toes, greasy hair and a sea of colorless clothing in constant motion. Am i the only person without gray or brown or black. Turqoise, that’s me. Four more hours to go before flight.
I buy two books. Two big and heavy for my two bags. I have forgetten how to travel alone. I am in airport hallucination. Will try to read. Woman on phone next to me on phone about office intrigue. She talks long enough and lourd enough that I get the plot. Definitely social services. New young boss meets crusty dusty experienced worker. Office space is the battle ground.
LL Bean t-shirt just went by. Maine clothes begin to arrive. So not Atlanta. It is a different tribe. Fleece and fleece and more fleece. We load. Last row of seats in the middle seat. Window seat with young guy in hoodie. I never do see his face. Huge guy in aisle. We let each other know without speaking that we sure as hell are not going to talk. I compress all muscles in order not to touch my seat mates. Every once in awhile, we get sloppy and realize we are touching legs of elbows and twitch away.
We land. After midnight. I have a guy I use all the time coming to pick me up. I avoid the cab line. People shout to me to get in line. So not Maine. Bassir doesn’t arrive. I call. He is asleep. He sent someone at noon. I know I gave him the flight number. I am pissed but do traveler control. I breathe and get in line trying to be someone with no expectations. No cabs in sight.
My turn comes. I arrive home at 1:15 am. To a house i don’t recognize. The house sitter has made some changes. The refrigerator is empty. The cat irritatingly friendly. I say Buenas Noches and head to bed, knowing my soul will arrive tomorrow.