BoomerGirl Diary

I woke up this morning not knowing I would later thank God that I wasn’t a business traveler. After a recent unexpected trip out of town, I was scheduled to depart Dallas early Monday morning, land in Kansas City and jet straight back to work.

This didn’t seem like a bad idea when I booked the last-minute flight (apparently thinking my OCD traits wouldn’t mind either). So naturally, unlike a normal case of the Mondays, this morning was especially manic.

It really began about 11 p.m. Sunday evening when I set my alarm, proceeded to check it about 20 times until finally falling into a decent REM sleep around midnight. I was clearly nervous its little jingle wouldn’t jingle at the crack of dawn. Fortunately for me, my host lived near the airport, so the jet engines quickly drowned out my alarm (and any nearby roosters).

Now crawling into the shower, on the same routine but on a much stricter schedule, the morning checklist went through my head. Brainpower I would normally spend thinking about the day ahead, meetings, priorities, to-do’s, etc. I am instead wasting on “where is the hair brush, did you iron your blouse, how long will security take, do you have cash?” Needless to say, by the time I am blow drying my hair, the morning panic has already set in.

Trying to eat, iron, check my flight, pack the suitcase, still looking for the hair brush, nearly forgetting the charger, I begin to see the clock spin faster. “We need to leave now!” Again, my host is only 5 minutes from the airport (a far cry from the 55 minutes I have to tack onto my trips.) I still worry about the business traffic and the various (sometimes pleasant) TSA agents.

About the time I would saunter into work, give a smile and a nod to the morning regulars as a steaming cup of coffee keeps my right hand company I am instead speedwalking into an uncharted terminal. People spin everywhere. And true to form, my cognitive thinking isn’t quite up to speed. I look for a bathroom to regroup.

I walk up to the self check-in, greeted by a friendly face (thinking “this is a good omen”). I swipe my credit card through the slot, and it begins to search for my itinerary. It seems as though the hourglass is taking quite a long time and I see the security line grow in my peripheral vision. “No passenger found!” just blinks up on the screen. At which point I can only imagine what the friendly face thought when I looked at him with complete fear and shock. We search for a few minutes, until I catch myself looking beyond the friendly face, start thinking “what the hell am I going to do” — and then I realize: I am standing at the Continental ticket counter when I am flying American.

Ah ha! Now secure with my boarding pass I near security and quickly get cut off by a scattering of suits and an entire Little League t-ball team. I remove my 3-ounce gels and lotions, take off my shoes and anxiously wait to walk through at the same pace as my luggage (for fear of what might happen if it beats me to the other side).

Eventually at the gate I of course have time to spare (all that stress and worrying for naught). I consider grabbing a cup of coffee at the only, and most likely not very gourmet, coffee kiosk stuffed in the corner under the blaring morning newscast. Here there were no friendly faces, only focused busybodies with their newspapers and coffee in hand. They all make a synchronized, almost rehearsed, motions toward the newscast at the slightest mention of “stock market;” I assume no one is traveling for pleasure.

Waiting to board, I am breathing a little heavier — exhausted — and I have only been up for about three hours. How was I going to make it through the day — but more importantly, how does my boomer mom do this? Not a business traveler per se, she still flies regularly with the air commuters, at least once a month. How come my nimble self gets frantic and she actually enjoys it? Maybe it’s years of worry about teenagers that makes flying seem less frenetic. Or the idea that travel is reward — getting her out of the house. Maybe it’s even reprieve after traveling with two wailing infants? Either way, I will gladly move aside for veteran travelers, this armature isn’t quite ready to fly with the finest (on Monday mornings at least).