"Of course not, mijita, never," defended Mama G. "You just have to look at it as a good thing."
A good thing. How, praytell, can being stuck in JFK for a good ... oh, another 8 hours, be a good thing?
"Well, didn't you say you needed to send off that story by midnight tonight? Now you're stuck! You have to finish it and send it off. So, go find somewhere you can be by yourself and finish it, and send it off."
"MAMA! I'm in the loneliest airport known to man, in Terminal FIVE, of all places; you want me to make lemonade? Where is your sympathy?!?"
"You don't need my sympathy. This is good for you. Go and finish your story."
"I can't even get a little bit of sympathy, you awful woman?"
"No, you don't need it."
"You know, I haven't shaved my legs in several days and the hairs are staring at me, menacingly; I'm wearing shorts and now I'm going to have to lug THREE huge bags around with me as I try to talk to strangers, as they stare at my legs, I'm sure -- still, nothing?"
"No, you should've gotten up earlier. And you should've shaved your legs."
"I got up at 7am! For an 11am flight. There was a lockjam in Lincoln Tunnel! I even tried to get Brother to check-in for me online (Brother G, I'm changing my password, don't you worry. I've been down the Internet Rat path before, and I don't want you to see what I say about you in my emails.)."
"Mijita, just go write your story and stop worrying; we'll come pick you up."
"You better."
"We will."
"11:47pm. I know y'all'll be late."
"We won't!"
"You will."
Sigh, "Mijita."
Sigh, back at you.
A couple good airport movies:
The Terminal -- not super great, but good premise.
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1 comment:
Really strange coincidence. I was at JFK today to pick someone who came over from Nepal. But I was there in the afternoon, 6 PMish. Terminal 4. Huh.
Happy days in TX. Happy road trip, writer.
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