Gate C34, DFW International Airport

One minute I was standing amongst several strangers, carry-on items in tow, waiting for the next Skylink shuttle to my flight’s terminal, when darkness floods the area.  I see nothing but I hear everything and not just the expected cacophony that often results from a blackout.  I hear pounding – no beats, regular, rhythmic beats and the whoosh of air, soft, shallow and fast.  Who’s breathing so loud?  Before I get a chance to explore the answer I hear even more curiously loud yet familiar sounds; several wheels skidding on the runway, a plane has landed, or planes?  Successive beeps that fade in and out like the kind you hear on the cargo trucks.  The symphony grows; names are called to terminals far from me, cellphones ring, some kid calls out for his mom, coffee is being poured and then spilled; “Ah, man, this is the only nice shirt I brought.”  What the hell is happening?  I read somewhere that when you lose the use of one of your senses the other four are heightened.  I diagnose myself with temporary enhanced otosensitivity and start to feel my way around.  I reach out hoping to latch onto someone.  I grasp something soft, someone’s shirt maybe, and ask “Hey, what’s going on?”  They don’t answer and the softness is torn out of my hands.  I decide to project my questions out into the darkness to no one in particular, “Hey, hello?  Anybody have a clue what’s going on?”  No one answers but there are more screams and lots of shuffling near the ground.  People are rushing pass me and I get knocked in every direction.  “Whoa, folks, relax!” Wham!  I’m knocked into the side of something solid and cold.  “Seriously people, running wild in the dark isn’t going to help.”  Another wham and this one knocks me to the ground and my glasses fall off my face.  I hear them clink as they land somewhere near me.  Oh, there they are right next to the waste bucket…the gray, two-foot tall Rubbermaid waste bucket. 

I can see!  Oh thank God they lights are back on.  What I do see is unsettling; there’s chaos everywhere.  People have abandoned their luggage, food, even their children and seem to be darting out in all directions.  Someone runs pass me and smacks hard into one of the tall, metal center columns and stumbles to the ground. Others seem to have gotten tripped up near the newsstand and a pile of eight or so are trying to regain their footing.  A few people have plastered themselves to the walls of the terminal in an attempt to feel their way out.  The strategy seems logical enough still they look just as frightened as everybody else.  But wait, the lights are back on, why is everyone still panicking?  They must not know.  Could they be so traumatized by a 15 minute blackout that they are afraid to open their eyes?  “Hey,” I shout, “it’s okay, the lights are back on.  It’s going to be okay, just open your eyes.”  And most of them do open their eyes only to recoil in fear.  The wall-feelers resume their arduous path at a more frantic pace.  I shrug at them as I’m not the least bit concerned by their presumed hopelessness; I have a plane to catch.   I decide to grab my things and continue as planned to gate C34.  

I go back to where my glasses fell to retrieve the rest of my things; a ridiculously heavy backpack that holds my laptop and textbooks and my carry-on case on wheels.  I collect myself as I smooth my hair out of my face, straighten my leather bomber jacket, and toss my red pashmina around my neck.  Hopefully order has been restored at C34.  The doors to the Skylink shuttle are still closed, which is curious since the power has returned, but no worries, I can work around it.  As I decide to make my way on foot I put my glasses back on and am careful to avoid the craziness that buzzes around me.  That’s when I hear someone softly say, “There she is.”  I keep walking straight ahead but shoot glances off to my sides in an effort to identify the voice.  I start to think it’s about time everyone came around to their senses and opened their eyes.  But the same plastered looks of confusion, terror, and helplessness are starring back at me just as before.  Again the voice speaks, “There she is, in the red scarf.”  It takes me a moment to process what has just been said and I look down at my own scarf just as the voice grumbles low and loud, “Get her!”  At this point I consider that possibly all is not well here in the east terminal of DFW, perhaps now is the time to run.  And so I do.   

Just a bit of fiction I thought I'd share.  Isn't the imagination a wonderful place?

Deep in the heart of Texas

I survived staying up for 42 hours straight!  It’s a long story that starts with waking up for school at 6am Tuesday, followed by working until midnight, then on the road at 3am to catch an early flight Wednesday, and ends with hanging out with my folks in Texas.  Perhaps my mental faculties were not at their best and I probably didn’t look so hot, but after seeing the look on my parents faces, I would do it all over again.

Yesterday I got to took cook in the kitchen with my mom; it’s one of my favorite things.   You know how I love to feed people, right?  Well, I got that from her.  She’s always cooking for somebody, having people over for dinner, or delivering food to somewhere.  This Thanksgiving the two of us are sharing the cooking and baking.  Actually I get to do most of the baking; she’s only making one pie.  I made a pumpkin cheesecake, two sweet potato pies and pumpkin cupcakes for the kiddos.   It means a lot to me and I am very thankful to be in Texas cooking with my mom to feed our family and friends.

Speaking of Texas, say what you will about the place, you cant’ ignore the fact that there is impeccable driving visibility thanks to the wide, flat roads and a lack of trees.  Occasionally a field of cows or cotton will get in the way but cows are fun to look at least.  I must also mention that strangers here greet one another with a proper smile and a nod (as opposed to Connecticut where people avoid eye contact and hardly anyone says “Howdy-do,”  I’ve been trying to fix that but for some reason people seem resistant to it).   Oh, and let’s not forget BBQ (enough said). “Oh brave new world that has such people in it.”   

Eat, drink and be merry, folks!

Up, up and away...

I have come to the realization that I am my own nemesis.  In all my failed attempts, the only person standing in the way was me.  Crazy, right?  Maybe.  Who better to have as an arch enemy than your own self? You already know their kryptonite, in fact you know every tiny detail about them.  Lex Luther would be envious of such power.  So what does this mean for me?  My initial thought was...invincibility.  I'm not talking superhero status.  Although, I would love to have a reason to rock a cape, tall boots, and a face mask.  Actually let's explore that a little more.  If I were a super hero what would my power be?  Incredible strength, speed, or super-human intelligence?  Hmm...all three have serious side effects. Ahhh, I think I will choose super human intelligence, it's more subtle and if I ever find myself in need of super strength or speed, I could just create some assistive device and viola!  Done.  Phenomenal mastermind Heather to save the day.  Wait, I need a super hero name and a symbol.  H1, oh snap, that's it and my cape could have a hydrogen atom on it! Oh wait, is that a little to like Dr. Manhattan?  Argh, damn you Watchmen.   Ok, so maybe I need to work on the name and symbol a bit more.  Anyway back to my epiphany of invincibility.  So, my rationale is that if the only person standing in my way is me, then I have a better chance of victory.  I can predict my next move, I can conquer the world!  Just kidding, I'd actually settle for surviving nursing school right now.

I must be off, I hear a call of distress and need to find a phone booth...

Gimme a beat!

Hi.  So…this is new for me this whole concept of sharing my thoughts, feelings and mundane activities online to anyone willing to read them.  It’s not that I’m a technophobe (I really wanted to use the word luddite, but I don’t think I’m cool enough to get away with it), I’ve made several attempts in the past but just couldn’t keep from holding down the backspace button.  But I’m here now and this is my attempt to try something new. 

It’s 1:00 am and I’m reflecting on the day I’ve just had.  It started out a rump-shaker, literally; I went to Zumba class this morning.  I usually resist the urge to try new cardio crazes but I decided to give this one a try thanks to a very enthusiastic friend who’s not afraid to stop mid-sentence to throw her hands in the air and shake a hip.  Zumba is contagious and that’s saying a lot coming from someone who often has footwork on reserve just waiting to bust out at any moment.  But enough about Zumba, what I want to share is this: of all the things to demand in a friend I have one very important requirement, they must be able and willing to cut a rug at a moment’s notice.  Find a beat, any beat (well, preferably the beat to the music but, hey, whatever) and bust a move with me.  It’s not a command, it’s a necessity.

On that note, I’m going to get ready for bed and you better believe that I will be twisting away in front of the mirror as I brush my teeth.

Miss Jackson if ya' nasty