written en route to Vancouver

DATELINE: On a plane somewhere between Dallas-Fort Worth Airport and Vancouver, British Columbia

So, here are some initial thoughts about my current location.

First, there are two Canadian high school groups on my flight to Vancouver. One is a group of environmental science students who just spent two weeks in Costa Rica. Cool! Another is a group of cheerleaders who won first place at some cheerleading competition in the US. They have a lot of, um, energy and enthusiasm. Having a large contingent of high school students certainly makes for an interesting flying dynamic.

Second, I’m sitting next to a political scientist, which I know because he has papers in a manilla folder labeled “WPSA,” and from what I can surmise, is probably an IR person. I’m trying to decide whether to interrupt his work by saying hello. Such a tough decision.

Third, I totally snagged myself an exit-row seat and have a boatload of leg room. I can’t remember the last time I was comfortable in an airplane seat and could — get this! — cross my legs. Whoa, buddy! Never is it clearer that you’ve lost weight than when you fly. The compressed space makes one acutely aware of every extra (or recently departed) inch of body mass. When I flew two weeks ago, I had a travel companion who distracted me from noticing how much smaller I feel in airplane seats. Now travelling alone, I am all too aware of this and am LOVING IT!! Woo hoo!! 🙂

Finally, despite the fact that I have had to go into partial communication blackout mode with respect to my phone, I am really looking forward to the next (nearly) four days in Vancouver. I have always wanted to go to Vancouver and have never been to Canada at all. Even if all I do is wander around the city without seeing much in the line of major attractions, I’m just generally really excited that I’m finally going. Even better, I get a line for my CV, get to see a couple of old friends from UT-Dallas, and get to have at least part of (but hopefully the vast majority of) my trip paid for by Vandy. Fabulous!

Earlier today, I had a bit of a crazy hectic escape from Nashville. For starters, I went by Kroger to pick up some foodstuff for the flight (just snacks and whatnot, because they’re insanely expensive at the airport), and realized when I got to the self-checkout that I’d left my wallet back at the house. D’oh! Thankfully, I’d gone yesterday and procured a supply of cash, so I was able to pay, but that definitely freaked me out for a few minutes.

Then, when the taxi came to fetch me, in the process of lugging my suitcase out the fence/gate to the curb, Rags escaped, which really wasn’t a big deal because the hound never actually goes too far, but in the process of trying to wrangle him back in the yard, Maddie (D’s dog) escaped. And unlike Rags, Maddie (who is a highly hyper dog with a lot of lab in her) DOES go far — as she proceeded to do, at breakneck speed, down the street. There was no stopping her — apparently, when she’s running, her ears turn off (I’ve experienced a similar phenomenon with Rags, whose ears turn off when his nose is at work). I walked around the neighborhood for a while, calling her name and trying to persuade her to come back, but to no avail. That, um, sucked.

Then, when I got back to the taxi, my oh-so-attentive driver hopped out of the front seat and let me know that my purse and backpack, which I’d more or less dropped at the fence/gate when the great dog escape happened, had been snatched by some random guy walking down the street, who picked them up and continued along his merry way down the sidewalk before ducking into one of the houses a few doors down. “You shouldn’t leave them on the sidewalk like that. It’s not safe,” he oh-so-helpfully pointed out.

At this point, already completely freaking out because of the great dog escape (it’s never a good idea to lose someone else’s dog as you’re leaving town for five days, it seems to me), I completely fucking lost it. Seriously — I was somewhere between screaming at the top of my lungs and breaking down into a puddle of tears. It’s hard to say which was gonna happen first, but I quickly locked the front door of the house and began walking down the street in the general direction he said the bag-snatcher had headed, ostensibly to go hunt down my crap and, perhaps for sport, get shot or something. Really, it was turning into arguably the best. day. ever!

It was ONLY as I was taking my first few steps down the sidewalk — i.e., away from the taxi and D’s house — that the taxi driver let out a chuckle and said, “No, I put your bags in the cab. But it’s really not safe to leave them on the sidewalk like that. So…. ready to go?”

FUCKING ASSHOLE! You’ve got to be kidding me right?

In the course of heading to the airport, I learned that the driver was born in Jerusalem and lived in Jordan until 11 years ago. So perhaps in his native country that whole little scene was the epitome of funny. Somehow, I doubt it, though. And, to be sure, it definitely WAS NOT Liz’s idea of funny this morning. Sheesh.

But, you know, at least I got a good story out of it, right? Someday, I will laugh about this. Surely?

ADDENDUM: She did come back. Whew.

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