Ports of Air
There's some unspoken rules about how to transport to and from school. The Margaurite is off, so you have to rush to get to the Caltrain before it leaves. If you're classy, you'll supershuttle. And if you're really, really classy, (which I am), and have cool friends, (which I have), someone will drive you there. *grins* Thanks, Loren!
But most importantly of all, you have to wear Stanford gear.
Because there's nothing like realizing your half-full flight is half full of people you've semi-seen before.
My flight was delayed, and as I was eating cup noodles I'd swiped from the open-kitchen when I see her in the terminal, my terminal, my gate. She spots me before I can duck away and I get rounded in, reluctantly, to join the other misfortunates she's already collected. On the way I snag someone I recognize in my subconscious (hey, don't I...know you? "Yeah. you were in my house last night, eating chestnuts with my mulled wine." Oh, yeah, um. hi.)
There were five of us waiting together. We weren't wearing red but we knew each other. And then when I boarded I saw -- every fifth row there was that big blocky S and I remembered that St. Louis is a lot bigger than in my memories.
And you do it, because you remember that if you're from school too, then you can casually start a conversation with someone you've never really talked to, and ask them how they're getting home, which oh! happens to be right next to where you want to go...
instead of riding the Metro home in the fat furry flakes of snow coming in every time the door opens and ripping through that California sweater.
But damn, it's good to be back.
But most importantly of all, you have to wear Stanford gear.
Because there's nothing like realizing your half-full flight is half full of people you've semi-seen before.
My flight was delayed, and as I was eating cup noodles I'd swiped from the open-kitchen when I see her in the terminal, my terminal, my gate. She spots me before I can duck away and I get rounded in, reluctantly, to join the other misfortunates she's already collected. On the way I snag someone I recognize in my subconscious (hey, don't I...know you? "Yeah. you were in my house last night, eating chestnuts with my mulled wine." Oh, yeah, um. hi.)
There were five of us waiting together. We weren't wearing red but we knew each other. And then when I boarded I saw -- every fifth row there was that big blocky S and I remembered that St. Louis is a lot bigger than in my memories.
And you do it, because you remember that if you're from school too, then you can casually start a conversation with someone you've never really talked to, and ask them how they're getting home, which oh! happens to be right next to where you want to go...
instead of riding the Metro home in the fat furry flakes of snow coming in every time the door opens and ripping through that California sweater.
But damn, it's good to be back.