Maybe.
I step off the plane, feeling the gush of hot air seep through the cracks, dragging my carry-on up the off ramp into the airport terminal. Got my baggage out of storage, and went to get something to eat. There were souvenir stores everywhere, which was to be expected. Each one lined with Cactus’ and Indian figurines by the windows. How cultural. So this is Arizona? Where’s a McDonalds, and perhaps a plane ticket back to Chicago?
“Number nine,” I say in a question-like tone. Yes, a double-cheeseburger. They have those in Chicago.
“That’ll be three-fifty”, said the man behind the counter. I had to ask him twice before I finally understood what he said. It wouldn’t be the first linguistically challenged person I’d meet.
I got my meal and sat down by a railing near the main walkway, just a few meters away from where gate 17 was. Woo. I get to see my friends step off the plane, and stare at amusing people. There were no trains of golf carts carrying senior citizens, nearly running over whole families, like in Texas though. Drat. Aggressive soccer-moms with power strollers will do.
Four people stepped off the plan that I recognized. Man, were they happy. I hadn’t seen the group like that together since 8th grade, and now all of a sudden we’re best friends again?
Did I make a mistake? Should I have come? I’ll just pretend not to notice them and keep sipping my Coke.
“Dave!” Screamed a voice, nearly catching the attention of the entire airport.
I looked up. Who, me? I smiled and waved.
“We’ll be right back. Just have to get our luggage.” Said Lynn.
“Take your time.” I replied.
So they came back, ordered a few Tacos from the Taco Bell in the food court I was in, and sat down next to me.
“Hey.” started Cal.
“Hi, how was the trip?” I continued.
“From Midway to Dallas was fine, but Jesus. The second plane was all turbulence.” Said Lisa.
“Really? Same here.” I said.
I’m probably making this out to be less exciting than it really was. After all, it was just the 5 of us, in Arizona, all by ourselves. Pretty nice actually. We all interrupted each others’ sentences trying to tell stories of the plane ride, the airports, our parents, and the like. It was like 8th grade again. …Quite.
“Number nine,” I say in a question-like tone. Yes, a double-cheeseburger. They have those in Chicago.
“That’ll be three-fifty”, said the man behind the counter. I had to ask him twice before I finally understood what he said. It wouldn’t be the first linguistically challenged person I’d meet.
I got my meal and sat down by a railing near the main walkway, just a few meters away from where gate 17 was. Woo. I get to see my friends step off the plane, and stare at amusing people. There were no trains of golf carts carrying senior citizens, nearly running over whole families, like in Texas though. Drat. Aggressive soccer-moms with power strollers will do.
Four people stepped off the plan that I recognized. Man, were they happy. I hadn’t seen the group like that together since 8th grade, and now all of a sudden we’re best friends again?
Did I make a mistake? Should I have come? I’ll just pretend not to notice them and keep sipping my Coke.
“Dave!” Screamed a voice, nearly catching the attention of the entire airport.
I looked up. Who, me? I smiled and waved.
“We’ll be right back. Just have to get our luggage.” Said Lynn.
“Take your time.” I replied.
So they came back, ordered a few Tacos from the Taco Bell in the food court I was in, and sat down next to me.
“Hey.” started Cal.
“Hi, how was the trip?” I continued.
“From Midway to Dallas was fine, but Jesus. The second plane was all turbulence.” Said Lisa.
“Really? Same here.” I said.
I’m probably making this out to be less exciting than it really was. After all, it was just the 5 of us, in Arizona, all by ourselves. Pretty nice actually. We all interrupted each others’ sentences trying to tell stories of the plane ride, the airports, our parents, and the like. It was like 8th grade again. …Quite.