A Christmas To Remember

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: "I can take care of myself"
"Goodbye!"
"Have fun!"
"Don't die!"
"Ciao!"
"Adam that's Italian not British!"
"It is all from the same continent! Fight me!"

These were the last things I heard from my family before I behind TSA lines. It was bittersweet. No scratch that. It was just bitter. I hated leaving them. I hated how packed this airport was because of Christmas time. I hated the smell of the crowds of people. Everything was irritating and nerve wracking.

In order to distract myself I put in my new earbuds that I got for my birthday. They were nice to look at and listen to, but most importantly they provided the best form of distraction: music. I let the music float through my ear and rattle around my head as I searched for my gate.

I had to keep my eyes ahead and my shoulder down in order to pass people standing around in lines or in the middle of the hall like complete jerk headed idiots. It was not a good environment. What made it worse was the weight of my carry-ons.

The struggle of moving through the stifling hallways from Hell was worsened by the elephant that was strapped to my back and the boulder I was dragging behind me. I had bound myself to my doom when I packed my backpack, however, Sicily packed my suitcase and checked baggage, which by the way was 10,000 times heavier than what I was carrying combined. I don't know why she had to pack the weight of the actual plane into my bags or even
what she packed (probably clothes and accessories that I won't ever use) and I loathed her for it.

As I found my gate, I also found the hoards of people that filled it. There was not a single dreadfully uncomfortable looking seat open. This means that I had to find a semi spacious piece of floor to sit on. Let me just tell you, the floor is even more uncomfortable than how those seats
look. I rummaged through my bag to find my book and hopefully transport myself to a world where these people weren't there. Just when I was losing myself in the plot the overwhelming smell of sweat and alcohol engulfed me. I looked up and there was a man who has definitely had his fair share of spiked eggnog.

He had glossy, distant eyes and messy hair with an untamed beard. He appeared to be in his late 40s. He looked me in the eyes and a nasty smirk grew as he threw a heavy arm around my shoulders. He leaned in closer and I silently cursed airport security for not allowing me to bring my pepper spray. When he finally spoke I just about hurled because of his horrendous breath.

"What's a little lady like yourself doing all by herself? It's a good thing that we have the same flight. If you're lucky, maybe you can sit next to me and I can take care of you." His words slurred as he spoke. Wow I think he had more to drink than I thought.

"First, I am none of your business. Second, lucky for me the airline isn't going to let you board when you're intoxicated like that. And third, I can take care of myself." I reach for my bag and move to get up but he grabs my wrist.

"I like them feisty," He pulls me to him and I stumble but that just gives me leverage to swing my three ton bag into his head. I guess there is an upside to having an overweight backpack. His grip weakens and he slumps to the side. For a split second I worry that I killed the man but that thought was short lived when his obnoxious snore broke through the noise of the gate.

I fling my bag over my shoulder and grab my roller suitcase, the rolling being apparently my only saving grace today, and headed over to the other side of the gate. I was halfway there when a kind looking, African American woman gently got my attention.

"Here Sugar, you can have my son's seat. You look like you could use some good company." She shooed her young son who begrudgingly did as his mother asked but quickly changed his attitude when she gave him 'the look.'

"Oh, thank you, but..."

"No buts. Sit down Child. My name is Deliah and that is my son Tyrone. We are going to my in-law's house for the holidays to keep them company while my husband is deployed," As she told her story I found the seat and set my stuff down, "He is currently on his second tour and his parents are getting too old to travel, so I promised him that I would take Tyrone to see them for Christmas. What are you doing here all by yourself? Where are you headed?" I couldn't help but automatically feel like I had known her my entire life. I trusted her right away and it actually felt nice. Which means that of course I am going to answer her question almost without a second thought as to if she fell under the stranger danger category.

"Well, I never get out much at all because I don't like the outside world. This is why my parents decided that for my eighteenth birthday they would make me hate them. They wanted to rip the bandaid off with duct tape. So, not only are they sending me to London by myself but they are doing it over Christmas and it will be the first time I am going to spend Christmas without my family. Plus, I have to be there for two weeks. I know that sounds like I am a rich girl with first class problems and I should be so happy that I get to have my freedom and have Mommy and Daddy pay for it all. And it probably is exactly how it sounds but I am actually really freaking out right now." I take a sharp breath as Deliah just stares at me. After a second she burst out in laughter drawing the gazes of those around us.

"Oh! That is the most rich, white girl story I have heard in a long time! But, as a therapist, I can safely tell you that what you have is a mix of social and separation anxiety. Those are no things to laugh about and so I apologize. You seem to be able to handle yourself pretty well though, so I can presume you to be a fighter," She gestured over to where the man was still unconscious. "I think you will do just fine in London. Just remember, not everyone is out to hurt you. Try to find joy in the little moments when you feel okay. Once you train yourself to see those moments, you can recognize them more often and then maybe see what you were doing in those moments and recreate them later. Over all, just try and let go and have fun. Never let go of your guard and your spark though. Here is my number if you ever need to talk or anything," She hands me her business card, "And please stay in touch. I want to hear all about your trip."

Her smile and kind words melted me into my seat as I graciously accepted the card. As she was about to leave to board her plane, which sadly was a different one than my own, I got her attention, "My mom wanted pictures and updates. Could I possibly get a picture with you?"

Her smile broadened and she nodded, "Of course Baby Girl." She turned to her son, "Tyrone. Take a picture of me and... and," She looked back at me, "I don't think I ever cuaght you name."

"My name is Dusty. Dusty Barnes actually."

"I love that name."

"You'd be the first."

"Well, Tyrone, take a picture of me and Ms. Dusty, than."

After we took our picture and said our goodbyes, I sent the picture and a quick text to my mom: Apparently this trip is starting out better than I thought it would.

I boarded the airplane with a renewed sense of determination. Now all that's ahead of me is a long flight and a whole heck of a lot of uncertainty.