The Art and Ritual of Travel

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Airports are full of grumpy people. This is what I have learned today. After having left my parent's home in Indian Hills at 11 AM yesterday morning, I spent what seemed like forever, but only was a day, travelling on airplanes and waiting in airports, and all I could think of the whole time was "The Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul." For those who are not Douglas Adams fans, this book starts out with Thor, the God of Thunder, at an airport trying to get a flight back to Norway, but unfortunately for him he has no form of identification or money to purchase the flight. In the end he ends up sending a lightning bolt through the lady at the ticket counter, the perfect end for the less than helpful woman who gets turned into an eagle. At more than one point today I wished I had the power of the gods so I could send my own form of genuine irritation rumbling through the airport employee who refused to answer my simple question because she thought I was waiting to board the plain I had just departed from...

I've noticed that many people seem to have certain rituals and routines when they travel, myself included. I found myself requesting for the second time in the last two days, a ginger ale from the stewardess with the beverage cart. Many people would not find this odd, but I do not drink ginger ale, ever... except on airplanes, and then I drink nothing else. I don't know why this little ritual started, but it started on my first flight when I flew to Disneyland at the age of 7 (I think.) For some reason ginger ale is my flying drink, my flying ritual, and one that I find very hard to break. I have never had any other beverage on an airplane other than a ginger ale. It is comforting to have some semblance of routine when you are completely out of your element, I guess, though I don't particularly like routine. Perhaps that is just one way in which my neurosis has found an escape.

I spoke to one man on my flight from Chicago to London, a grand total of 8 hours in the most uncomfortable chair I have ever had to sit in, who always brought the Men's Journal with him on flights, and the same Rock and Roll magazine that he had purchased in London nearly 10 years ago. He showed me both magazines while we chatted about the concept of rituals and the art of flying. I didn't quite understand why he would bring the same magazine on every flight for ten years, but perhaps it is simple superstition. The man was from Kentucky and had a pretty heavy southern accent. We started the conversation with a misunderstanding over submarines, but he turned out to be a very nice flying companion.

Landing in London was an experience in and of itself. I learned that I have a very guilty aura about me when dealing with authority figures. I knew that I was doing nothing wrong, but for some reason continuously dropped my paperwork in front of the immigration lady who finally asked me "why I was really in London." To which I responded "vacation, I just needed a vacation" while I trembled in my teva flipflops. I'm not good at dealing with situations where the authority figure has the power to deny me access to a country, didn't quite know how to deal with that.

Della won't let me sleep today, so I'm trying my best to keep my eyes open though I haven't slept in over 24 hours. I am exhausted, but the good kind of exhausted where you know the wait is over, you have forever in front of you, and all it takes it reaching out to touch it. I cannot wait to see what this wonderful adventure holds for me, and I sincerely hope that I will learn to accept lifes many flaws with a careless hizzah. To all of my family who have supported me, I love you. Thank you for everything. Have faith in me, I may flounder, but my feet are still beneath me.

Love,
Jess

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Comments

[Maggie Blue]

Woof
Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof....just laying here on my back in grandma's living room...great day to say woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof. I keep bringing out my toys...she thinks I have a lot of stuffed toys, she can't find my secret stash...woof, woof, woof. Love you mom!!!