The TSA pre-check line seemed as long as the line for the regular old folks this morning. Damn. I think that's what they call a white girl's problem. I reminded myself to suck it up.
An official sounding TSA agent came by, told those of us containing our anger and outrage as we waited at the tail end of the line that was supposed to be for the chosen ones that there were two much shorter pre-check lines down at the other end of the terminal. En masse, we took off, the less bright ones (like me) sprinting through the mob scene on the outer flank, the more savvy ones cutting through the otherwise wasted wide open space that would lead them directly to the poorly marked pre-check sign down at security checkpoint B. Naturally, I overshot it.
Another white girl's problem. I am, after all, on my way to the beach. Wiping away the perspiration from my brow and wondering whether I'd have time for coffee and a bagel, I meandered my way back to the end of the alternative pre-check line, which was now just as long as the other one. I berated myself silently. Looking up, I noticed two gentlemen waving at me, the two gentlemen I had been standing between earlier. I assumed they were mocking me. Boy did I feel dumb.
"We lost you," one of them shouted. "Where did you go?" My faith in humanity has always remained intact, sometimes against all odds, but now my love for my fellow man has reached a fever pitch. I hesitated, but they waved me on. "She's with us, they assured everyone as I squeezed past, ducking in between them as they lifted the blue strap and actually seemed relieved to see me.
Life really is a journey, and I suppose we're all in this together. I'll admit, my travel companion looked a bit peeved when he found me, already a good twenty-five minutes into my coffee. I didn't think it was a good time to tell him to suck it up and stop acting like a white girl.
Loving the journey, although I have to admit I'm all about the destination right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment