Yawn. As
usual, I had to be up at oh dark thirty. For those of you that were never in
the Army, that means Damn Early. It’s about 5 AM in the morning and I am in the
downstairs bathroom putting on my makeup when I hear someone coming down the
stairs. Most of my family knows all about me (except my youngest son) but I am
still not eager to have them see me, and so I was a bit nervous as I peeked out
the door to see my wife headed down the
stairs.
“What, are you crazy?” I asked her teasingly.
“What, are you crazy?” I asked her teasingly.
“Nah, I just
couldn’t sleep.” She replied in a tired voice, and then made her way to the coffee
pot. I thought about tossing in the towel and cleaning the makeup off, but I
had most of it done, and I had an entire day to spend in airports ahead of me –
I didn’t want to spend it all regretting a lost opportunity to be me for a bit,
and so I carried on. Besides, I'd shaved my legs and painted my damn nails for this!
When I was ready to go, and had my back pack on and my
hand on my suitecase, we gave each other a brief kiss good bye. My wife is Five
foot and two inches tall, and in heels I have to be about six foot, two or
three, so I kind of giggled at how far down I had to bend to reach her.
“You’re kind
of short you know? I’d ask you how I look but I’m afraid that you would give an
honest opinion.” I told her with a grin. Yeah, that would have been her big
chance to say something either uplifting or crushingly depressing, but all I
got was the sound of crickets outside of the waiting door. Well, she didn’t say
anything to make me crash and burn, so I guess I’ll take what I can get . . .
Having my
face fried a few weeks ago (laser hair removal) has helped a bit and the damn
beard shadow wasn’t as prominent, and
so my confidence is perhaps a little higher. Not high, mind you, just higher
than it was. I guess the improved attitude showed because I found people
willing to engage with me in conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure
they knew full well what I am, but when you exude contentedness instead of
anxiety, people are a lot more inclined to strike up a conversation with you. I
was sitting in the gate area of the Austin airport waiting for my flight to
Chicago, when a family came and sat down across from me. The husband was
looking a little frazzled as he spoke to his wife.
“Our flight
has been delayed by about an hour. That’s not too bad.” He told her.
Of course I
almost panicked, because I only had 50 minutes to catch my connection as it
was, so an hour delay meant I was 100% sure to miss my connecting flight. I
guess my panic was obvious as I frantically looked at the monitor above the gate,
because the young man started laughing.
“No no, you’re
all right. We are on that flight over there – not yours!” he said, while
pointing at the gate next to mine.
I started
laughing with relief.
“It was that
obvious huh? I only have 50 minutes to catch my connection, so you scared the
hell outta me!”
OK, speaking
of only having 50 minutes to catch your connection (which by the time my flight
landed turned out to actually be 35 minutes) if I ever wear four inch heels to
Chicago O’Hair with such a short connection time again, would someone please
slap the shit outta me? I looked up a map of the airport later and discovered
that you just about literally could not have placed my landing and departing planes
farther from each other and still remained within the confines of the airport. That
was a LONG walk to make quickly in any
shoes, let alone four or five inch stilettos.
By the time
I got to my connecting flight, I was “perspiring” (a kind way of saying
sweating like mad) and I probably smelled like a goat. None the less, the woman
sitting next to me on the plane took the time to tell me that she thought my
shoes were awesome. I’m pretty sure that was female speak for “Are you fucking
crazy wearing those to the airport?”
At long
last, I arrived in Indianapolis where I got my rental car and made the hour
drive south to my hotel. I was checked in by a super cute young lady who had
almost certainly never encountered anyone like me before. She was awesome, but
clearly a nervous wreck. Among other signs that she was nervous . . .
“OK, we have
breakfast every morning from 10 Am to 6 AM . . . “ she started off. I just
looked at her for a second with my head cocked slightly to the side to show her
that something didn’t compute.
“Oh! I mean
from 6 AM to 10 AM!” she corrected herself with a nervous giggle.
“It’s OK,” I
told her with a wink and then batted my eyes, “I have that effect on people
sometimes. . . “
I suck at
it, but I’d rather leave them with a giggle than to leave them nervous.
Nice comeback.
ReplyDeleteAwesome! Love it, Kimberly!
ReplyDeleteKim -
ReplyDeleteIf we ever meet in person again, I hope I can tell you my one funny airport story about traveling from San Antonio to White Plains, NY. You have many more stories, but it is my one good one, and fits in line with making connections between two cities served by hops to/from larger airports....
M
Nice to see you back again!
ReplyDeleteMandy
Kim -
ReplyDeleteHaving had to traverse O'Hare in male mode, connecting from United to American before 9-11 security, I know you had to have been exhausted.
How is it dealing with the TSA while "Flying Pretty" these days? How often are you pulled aside for extra screening? Do you do anything special to deal with your "anomaly" before going through the scanner? I know you've flown pretty for years. I'm considering doing that next year on my vacation (I'm looking at flying to the West Coast, visiting SF and Seattle, and taking the train back to NY), and want to make sure I get through security with a minimum of hassles. (And yes, I know I have to use my male id for all parts of the air journey.)
M
Marian,
DeleteHaving been on the train many times, including cross-country, there has been no issue about my appearance. Just another female traveler.
Mandy
Marian, I get asked questions like this so often, that I long ago created a post giving all the details I could think of:
ReplyDeletehttp://kimberlyhuddle.blogspot.com/2012/08/how-to-fly-pretty.html
I get pulled aside very rarely - only when I win the lottery and the machine picks me at random for additional screening. When that happens, they just swab your hands with a cotton ball and insert that into a machine. Assuming that you haven't been playing with explosives, you are on your merry way in about 30 seconds.