It’s been one heck of a weekend. Thursday afternoon I was monkeying around online and found a roundtrip ticket from Madison to Ft. Lauderdale for a song. A surprise visit to see my family in South Florida! Woohoo! I could already smell the coconut suntan oil. The only catch was that it meant flying out the following morning. So I kissed my husband and two pups goodbye, and set off. With a small country packed inside of my suitcase.
As I stood in line to check in, I looked longingly at all the other travelers, rolling sleek wheeled suitcases, breezing through the airport, with a free hand to answer their cell phone or scratch their bum. But me? My once-sleek roller case that I had dreamed would make me just like them, wheezed and bulged at the sides. And because my roller case could not hold everything that I might possibly need for two days, I also lugged a two ton shoulder bag; a work binder filled with stuff I never get around to in the office, but thought I might have time to get knocked out in the two days while visiting with my family that I haven’t seen in months; the office laptop (ditto); my knitting (in case I had time over and above the time I couldn’t find to read the books, magazines, and work reports I brought along); and the ubiquitous sweater tied around my waist, migrating down to my knees because I lacked a free hand to fix it; And then there was the stuff I packed IN my bags.
I am convinced that other people in airports pack nothing in their suitcases. Also, I have my doubts that they actually go anywhere. There’s a good chance that these scantily packed hot shots are hired by the airlines just to make me feel ridiculous. On most trips, (and this one was certainly no exception) I pack more food than clothing. Of course I didn’t eat much of it, but it was damn reassuring knowing that I could have a Pop Tart if I wanted one, without having to sell a kidney. Because airport food is expensive. And I am very cheap. But not just a Pop Tart. My options were almost limitless. I also could have had Jell-O, cereal bars, oranges, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, crackers, hard candy, brownies, Cheese Curls…really, I was ready for two months of desert island feasting. But the point is I never once had to pay an airport vendor for an overpriced stale bagel. Ha! And besides, hunchbacks are really, really, sexy.
Seeing my family again was great. I surprised everyone but my teenage sister who agreed to meet me at the airport, and my dad, who she ended up asking for directions. They were great secret keepers, though, and I was able to surprise my youngest sister, my mom, two of my brothers, my sister-in-law and my aunt. We talked, we shopped, we went to the beach, had dinner at Mama Jennies (my favorite Italian dive in the entire world, because they make the world’s best garlic rolls), but mostly, we just talked and talked some more. Sometimes, especially when you live states apart, talking on the phone just doesn’t do. You feel a need to limit conversation to the “important” things, the things that are happening now or will happen soon. You never get to the silly, or the philosophical, or the minutia. But sitting on your parent’s bed, hearing your mom laugh or seeing your dad shave, you feel free to let the conversation flow, or to even set aside the urge to maintain conversation, and allow yourself to just enjoy the company. It’s funny how many things never make the cut when you’re holding a receiver to your ear.
I made it back to Wisconsin last night with even more stuff than I left with. Because inevitably, I always do. But next time, I swear, I’m only taking a toothbrush and a comb. And some lipstick. And my favorite pair of jeans. And I better take my running shoes. And a small snack or two. Or three…
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