• Recent Posts

  • Archives

  • Categories

  • Meta

Flying Alone

Screen Shot 2014-09-28 at 2.50.21 PM

V is for Vulnerable. That’s the name of the book I just saw at the airport bookstore and that’s me. Vulnerable. Alone.  Many people walk along the wide corridors of the Nashville airport.  Walk with partners.  With spouses.  Friends.  Children.  I walk alone.

Will someone help me, or better yet, take my carry-on suitcase out of my hands and lift it to the overhead compartment?  I envision an empty overhead bin with the latch open and I heave-ho my forty-pound suitcase two feet above my shoulders.  Who am I kidding? I can barely lift 20 pounds on the shoulder push machine at the YMCA.  I should’ve checked my bag. So what if I wait 20 minutes for it at the Denver airport?

And it’s raining.  I hate flying on stormy days.  The plane ride will be like a racecar on a county gravel road fill with potholes.   What if I throw up?  I never had motion sickness until five years ago.  I hate throwing up. Wonder who will be sitting beside me?   Watch the clock.  Go to bathroom one last time before boarding the plane.  At the water fountain, I refill my water bottle that I bought.  How could I forget to bring a water bottle from home?  $2.61 wasted on a bottle of water.

“’Mam,” a young man stands behind me when I turned from the water fountain.  “Aren’t you from Cookeville?” I nod and smile. “Yes, I am,” I say.

“I’m Joe Bulow and I thought I recognized you,” he says.  I tell him my name and that his mother and I are in a writing group and a book club together.  Joe, his wife, Wendy, and their two young sons were traveling on the same flight to Denver.  They live in Colorado Springs, her hometown.  I’m not alone!  I know someone’s name on the plane and his mother is my friend.

From two boarding gates away, I see that my flight is boarding.  I get to my assigned boarding place just as the line moves toward the person collecting boarding passes. A young couple, with moon eyes only for each other, walks in front of me; a teenage girl behind me.  Not good prospects for lifting my heavy bag.  Surely there’s a strong man on this flight.  I look for an aisle seat- not too far back. I have to carry this heavy bag through the aisle.

Just four rows back, I see a woman sitting by the window, two empty seats beside her and an empty overhead bin. I throw my oversized purse in the aisle seat and began to lift my suitcase.  Did the man offer to help or did I ask for help? He’s not young, older than me.  I hold one end of the bag.  “Just let me do it,” he says.  His reply to my thanks is a big smile, a nod, and “You’re welcome.”

The woman sitting beside me flies often and her daughter is a Tennessee Tech student. We quickly make connections.   The airplane dips and bumps until finally, forty minutes into the flight, it flies smoothly.  No more rain and dips and bumps.

Now I wonder will that same gentleman get my heavy suitcase down for me when it’s time to we get off the plane?   Why fret? Things seem to work out.

Advertisements

One Response

  1. Hello admin, i see that susanrray.com needs fresh posts. Daily updates will rank your page in google higher, content is king nowadays. If you are to lazy to write unique articles everyday you should search in google for:
    Ightsero’s Essential Tool

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: