Early to the Aiport

For me, to be on time means to be at least 15 minutes early, which is how I found myself at terminal 7 with 4 hours until my flight. I held my breath as I placed my largest bag on the scale (partially because I was nervous to know if it was in the 50 pound weight requirment and partially because it was so freakin' heavy!). 58.8 lbs. Oh no! Trying the smaller of the 2 checked bags, I found that I had 4.5 lbs of space to play with. A mad transfer of items from the large bag to the small and into my carry-on increased the small bag to 49.5 lbs and the large one to 49.8! All I had to leave behind was a pair of shoes, which gives me a good idea to check out the shops this weekend!

It's a strange sensation, walking around the terminal. In many ways, I don't feel like I'm about to embark on this grand adventure, like the universe is just keeping me in limbo here. It really doesn't seem like I won't be here tomorrow or next week. Yet, it doesn't quite seem like I'm going to be in this foreign land, either. I almost feel like some sort of puppet, being played along by the world. It's hard to describe.

I still need to buy a book for the flight. Knowing I would be here for quite some time, I resisted the temptation to sneak through Borders this past weekend. I'm allowing myself ONE book. I'd take more, but then I'd have to carry them! I have this memory of travelling through Hamburg and Swededn carrying Scarlett, the sequel to Gone With the Wind, in hardback! Never again! I can't decide between getting something that in everyday life would be worth reading, or just something easy to read that will capture my attention away from the fact that I've been sitting on a plane forever.

Well, I now have just an hour before I board, so I should think about that last mosey to the bookstore and make the final pit stop before getting to use the oh-so-spacious plane lavatories. Wish me luck!