Rebel with a Charge

“There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.” ~Charles Dudley Warner

How is it that I always forget how difficult travel can be after I return from a trip? I suppose the sweat, exhaustion, stink, and difficulties are worth the adventure that lies ahead. The first leg of my trip from Omaha to Chicago went well with little turbulence though there was a storm in Iowa as we flew over it. I have to say that Chicago airport is kind of cool, and it’s clean. As I walked from one concourse the other, I had the pleasure of walking through a multi-colored area that made me feel like I was inside of a crayon box. The neon squiggles on the ceiling and frost colored glass made me feel whimsical. After emerging from the area, I rode next to a man that commented he felt like he had just been to a fun house. I had to agree.

I know the airport is clean because I spent quite some time on the bathroom floor. I wasn’t sick, but charging my computer and cell phone. Can you believe it costs $2.00 to use the “charging station”? Outlets are a hot commodity here and the charging area was full, so I used my head and figured there would be some outlets in the bathroom. I was right. When I started charging, I didn’t realize that there was a cost in the airport. When the cleaning lady came in, I thought I might get in trouble for being in her way, but she just laughed at me and thought I was a rebel for coming in the bathroom to charge. She said, “I think it’s selfish that the airport charges people to power up their things. You just go right ahead.” Later a 20-something girl from New York came in and we chitchatted. She asked me if I was backpacking and I just said yes, so I didn’t have to explain my whole trip to her. Then she told me about this Internet site that people could sign up on to eat in the homes of Italians. She said, “You look the type to do something like that.” After she left I thought, “I am an adventurous, rebel backpacker who takes pictures and writes, or at least these people think so.” When I travel, I can be whoever I want to be. My history does not hop on the plane with me. I believe William Least Heat Moon’s quote sums it up best: “When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then.” This intrigues me and makes me think of our writing marathons I like to go on in Nebraska with my fellow writing project friends. We are always told to tell people in the shops, cafes, or restaurants we inhabit while on a marathon, “I am a writer.” On this adventure I’m about to make, I have decided this is what I will tell people.



My flight from Chicago to Frankfurt was uneventful, but I had trouble sleeping. Unfortunately, the plane left Chicago an over hour later than planned, so I missed my connecting flight in Frankfurt by 10 minutes. So I went to rebook my flight. At this point, I was sweaty from running through the airport and exhausted. Of course one of the computers was down, so the wait was longer. When it was finally my turn, the stout woman excused herself to talk on her cell phone, which added to my frustration. When she returned she said there was a 12:30 flight, but she didn’t think I’d make it, so she would put me on the 4:00 flight. I told her I could make it, I had 45 minutes, but she wouldn’t budge. When I went to get my boarding pass from another area, I sweet-talked the lady into getting me onto the 12:30 flight. She did it and told me to hurry. I ran to the x-ray checkpoint, whipped off my belt and jacket, and then unpacked everything. I was then asked to step aside for extra screening and boy to those people like to check you – everywhere! After that, I saw that all my things came through except my computer. I was told they needed to wipe it down for explosives. I wanted to ask, “Seriously?, but bit my tongue. Arriving at my boarding area, I had sweat dripping down my face from running. I felt sorry for the people I would sit next to until I boarded. Have you ever been on a plane next to a person that hogs the arm of the chair? Well, I was next to two! At this point, I wanted to revert to Kindergarten behavior by taking my elbow and jamming it into the man to my right’s arm. I restrained myself, but the man to my left did the old slow motion arm shove – inching my arm off. I thought we would share, but he wanted to hog it, too. So there I sat, arms pinned to my side; my only comfort was that I proved the stout cell phone lady wrong and had gotten myself on this plane. I was on my way to Florence, sweaty, stinky, and exhausted, but I was on my way. This was my moment of delight, my beginning.

Questions:
Who do you want to be on your next vacation?
What has been your favorite beginning to a trip?