Flying Solo

This is a blog right? So I can blog about whatever I want, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be something I did, or somewhere I went. But consequently this does have to do with something I did recently, go figure.

So here are my qualms about flying by myself. Which I have done almost ten times in the last three years since Brent and I moved to Virginia. First of all, flying alone is really, really boring. The only people who have ever tried to make small talk with me are tackily dressed women in their 60’s. No offense, but I’m not on my way to see my grand kids and therefore do not really have that much to talk about with you. Let me read my book and that can be the end of it. Thank you.

Then, you get to your gate, find a seat not too particularly near anyone else in fear another 60-something might want to chat, and you settle in. Your book is out, headphones are securely placed in your ears. Then it happens. You have to go to the bathroom. You don’t want to hold it- heck no are you going in that tiny hole in the wall they consider a “lavatory” on the plane. Better go now before they start boarding. Oh but how wonderful it would be if you had someone else you were flying with that could watch your stuff for you. Nope, you’re flying solo, again. So put away the book and iPod, and give up the precious realty you so thoughtfully secured. Here goes nothing.

So you try to cram yourself into the stall while carrying your purse and your one carry-on. Guess what fellas, you luck out, a woman and her two bags, no matter what size she is or what size her bags are, do not easily fit inside an airport bathroom stall. Let’s not even go into how impossible it is to wash and dry your hands after- God forbid any of your bags touch that floor! Oh wait, I almost forgot to mention how the automatic flusher will probably activate before you can barely even sit down because it took so long to fit in there and arrange your things in the first place. So if you manage not to get sucked down into the great unknown, you begrudgingly take care of business then head out to wash your hands (see above complaint.)Wow, that is pretty much horrible each and every time it happens and does not seem to get any better. All the airport bathroom stall experience in the world cannot ever help in that situation. So it’s over and you head back to your gate. Only now it’s closer to boarding time and your seat has been taken. All of the seats have been taken for that matter. If only you had a flying companion that could have saved your seat, (sigh).

Another sigh. You take your seat on the floor, yes the floor, but at least it’s not the bathroom floor! All of a sudden you hear the incessant beeping of the electronic game the 8-year-old is playing next to you. You glance at the clock to see the plane is “supposed” to begin boarding in ten minutes. But now that you are a frequent flier you know that will more likely be twenty plus minutes- but may seem like thirty with that beeping in your ear. Aaaah, then you remember why God (or some really smart dorky guy) invented the iPod. Now if only I had a playlist for blocking out annoying games and 60-year-old women…

And those are my gripes slash past experiences from flying by myself. As I write this blog I am sitting in the Philadelphia airport on a three hour layover, I have to pee, and all I can hear is beep beep beeeeep beep… (Sigh)

So glad Brent was at least able to join me for our flight back from New York. And yes, I made him save my seat and sit with all my stuff while I went to the bathroom. He was my knight in shining Nike.