Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Destination Mexico

I have always loved airports. The weird way that time is suspended. The only time in my life when I feel fully capable of relaxing is on a plane or waiting for one. There is no reason to check texts or email, there is nothing to be done except sit tight for a few hours. Sometimes, even, you can't leave your seat or turn on any electronic devices for a good twenty to thirty minutes. It's blissful.

Aboard a flight is the one time I don't feel the need to be self-improving. I'm all about self-improvement: saving money, saving time, having healthier habits and thought processes, etc. etc. etc ad nauseum.

Right now, we're sitting in an airport lounge awaiting our flight from Dallas to Cancun having spent the last three days in New Mexico. Which was lovely. I have spent all of my adult life living on the east coast of the US, and things like deserts and mountains and coyotes (which are incredibly wee, bee-tee-dubs) are delightfully exotic. Native American accents sound vaguely Midwestern to my Yankee eardrums, and everything comes with either red or green chiles. There is no option for no chiles- that would be silly. Your choices are: red, green, or starve.

I like green.

In the past year since my boyfriend moved overseas and we began an Xtreme Long Distance Relationship spanning 7,500 miles, I have spent more time in airports than I have in my entire life. It seems like our lives are on some weird new calendar where we spend 2-3 months living day to day with jobs and microwave lunches and late meetings and laundry and gym bags; apart from one another, and then weeks at a time measuring layovers, time changes, boarding times, checked baggage, missed connections, and currency exchanges. From a distance, it feels surreal. From my standpoint, it just feels like part of my "new normal". The wanderlust part of me is ecstatic. The controlling part of me is stressed and exhausted. But this is life, for now.

We have two more hours before we can board our flight to Mexico for a 5 day vacation. As always, I fret about the suitcases making it to our final destination, that the shuttle will be there to pick us up at the airport, and that our reservation hasn't been lost. I worry about new climates and drinking the water and transferring currency. I check work emails and fret about the cats back at home. Once I get to the destination, Ill relax. And in the air, too. Because there's nothing you can do about any of it once you're buckled in - captain's orders - and on your way. Just read your book, wonder if anyone ever buys anything from Sky Mall magazine, and look at the ground below. That is your sphere of living at these moments. So small, so manageable.

Not that I'm complaining about any of it. It's just the way things are for us, right now.

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