Arrivederci!

Remember when you got your first puppy? You took her out for a walk on campus (because everyone got their first dog in college, right?) and it seemed like everyone had a new puppy. Same goes for strollers--first time you went to the park you noticed a dozen other strollers. I’ve been to the Atlanta airport a hundred times but never noticed the passport and visa office near ticketing. Or the currency conversion office. I wonder how many other things I miss every day because they are just not part of my current awareness, even though they’re right in front of my face.

When I got through security (which was a little disappointing for me as the silent TSA guy was not remotely impressed that I was using my passport for the first time--I was giddy!) I didn’t need to get on the tram! The international terminal is right there. I’m pretty sure I’ve been to this terminal before. Clearly I’m not going to remember the 1999 trip to Jamaica (that’s a whole other bottle of wine, as a dear friend says), but regardless, it feels brand new to me. But I am very curious as to why On The Border the only full-service restaurant in the international terminal? I suppose it is quite suiting for me, as 'Mexican and margaritas' is one of my favorite things. But what about the people that are flying in from other parts of the world? Isn’t there something a little sexier we could offer them?

And I have to ask--the bald guy with the giant American flag tie? Is he an American? I kinda think not. He walked like a European, and wore really cool glasses like my British friends. But they would never in a million years wear that tie. I look like I’m heading out to teach a yoga class, so who am I to judge, right?

Speaking of Americans though, I must say that I have never seen so many soldiers in the airport. I always see them, but there are a lot today. I get a little teary whenever I see them. Where have they been? Where are they going? Who are they leaving behind? My gratitude for what they do for me and for the amazing life I have in America just overwhelms me sometimes. At the mall once I saw the owner of a little falafel shop give lunch free-of-charge to a man in uniform, with a “thank you for your service,” and I literally started crying.

Okay--just saw my first person wearing a mask to protect them from germs. I wonder how much of that I will see. I do think airports are one of the dirtiest places and always want to sanitize (I’m a little obsessive when I have my kids in the airport).

I’m going to end this scattered blog entry with a little daydream I had on the way to the airport. Today was a tough morning. When passing my kids’ school I so badly wanted to pull in and run to their classrooms to give them one last kiss and hug…but I resisted. They’ve already said their goodbyes and I just would have cried. But my mind has been all over the place today. Including imagining bumping in to Kate Beckinsale at the airport (why her, I don’t know) and her inviting me to spend the week with her and her friends in Paris. That would be easier, I thought. Easier than a week by myself. But would I do it? Would I take her up on her offer? No. I couldn’t. This is important for me to do. Sorry, Kate. I’ve got a lot in store for me in the next seven days. But right now I am very grateful for the wonderful hand-shaken margarita that has calmed my nerves a bit. If I really need that hug, maybe I’ll just go find a soldier.