I've been in the airport for five hours. Well, a bit over that, now. I'm waiting on a flight that has been continually delayed. Delayed. Delayed. I will miss my connection. I left the secure area to go to the ticket counter at check in so I could make sure I was on the last flight in to Charlottesville. I enjoy the convenience of a smaller airport like the one in C'ville. The downside is the limited flights into the airport. If you miss the last flight, you are stuck until the next morning. I hope that does not happen. I don't have a toothbrush with me, and buying one in the shops . . . We all know how expensive that would be.
I miss my children. I had planned my flight so that I could see them before their bedtimes. Now, I'll be lucky if I'm awake enough to remember to kiss them goodnight. Four days without my children isn't for me currently. Yes, I was busy enough. I rarely had time to miss them. This morning was different. I walked along the canal in Indianapolis watching all of the moms and dads jog or bike with their little ones in tow. The little voices . . . the smiles . . . I longed to have my children with me so that we could watch the fish, go to the zoo, and enjoy the day.
Before children, waiting in an airport was annoying. Now, waiting means that my children's hopes are deflated as much as mine. Not to mention my husband's problems with trying to make a little boy understand that mommy won't be home on time. Yet, tomorrow morning will be lovely.
Also making this wait horrible is the fact that the free WiFi isn't functioning. Think of all the time wasting I could be doing browsing blogs, reading interesting news, or blogging—writing--on my own site. Alas, I am stuck in the quasi technical state of having a laptop, with an electrical outlet nearby, with no ability to connect to that beautiful invention, the World Wide Web.
I have, for most of the five, going on six now, hours been writing on my novel. However, my head hurts from all the canned air (I never thought I would say that) I've had to endure the past four days. I could get some food, possibly chocolate, but I am through with banquet meals and restaurant food.
I will ceasing whining. At least in writing.
Let me describe some of my fellow waiters.
A mother with a three month old baby. The baby has been very good. Her young husband is here, as is either her father or his. The granddad, gray hair and beard, alternatively holds his two year old grandchild or the baby. The baby has those wide, wondering eyes of one who can see just a bit farther than its mother's face. The two year old wears yellow crocs and has the blond hair of her mother.
Also waiting are a teenager, light brown hair in a ponytail, with her mother whose hair matches her daughter's color. In her sloppy, jersey-knit pants and over-sized t-shirt, she appears comfortable. When she sits, she rests her head on her mom's shoulder in an attempt to sleep.
Five rows in front of me is another older man, white hair, mustache, and beard, wearing a light pink polo style shirt. His bifocals help him to read the news magazine he bought in the Hudson News shop in this small concourse. His wife, younger in appearance by 15 years, sports a short haircut that sticks out in a halo around her head. The blond highlights look professionally done. She wears a pink sweater twin set that matches her lipstick.
Those are the ones that catch my eye. The young woman with blond hair and a iPod earphones looks no different than any other twenty something. Her shoes are high heels and strappy. Toes are painted on the foot that she shakes as she text messages her friends.
There's a thirty or forty something man with glasses and a mustache who stares alternately at his laptop or the people around him. We laughed together a short time ago when we were told for the second time that our aircraft was in flight. We no longer believe the announcements.
My traveling companion has lost patience with our scheduled flight and transferred herself to another flight. That is okay as we we frequently went our own way at the meeting. This was different than the last sorority meeting when my roommate and I did everything together despite our different personalities. I suppose some might view our independence from each other as odd. My viewpoint is that we are simply strong women with our own ideas of what we would like to do. Today I longed for open spaces while she decided that shopping would suit her.
We all now sit in hope that the aircraft which just arrived is ours, the one that will ferry us to Charlotte, either for home or a connecting flight. The waiting flight crew practically ran down the jetway, so I suppose we could be boarding after the plane is cleaned and fueled. I'd be all for flying on fumes if we could get moving.
Ah, air travel. So fast, yet so very trapping. I am a prisoner to weather, mechanics, and flight crews.