My New Orleans to Gillette Adventure

 As I entered the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, I felt a sense of independence mixed with last night's egg salad sandwich. My good friend, Latisha Beall, was helping me along with my bags--which ended up costing me $125 because of their weight. (Sidenote: It is NOT cheaper to bring fewer bags if they are pushing 100 pounds.) We arrived about 2 1/2 hours early because of my anxiety level. I knew that I would need plenty of time to panic, pee, and eat before entering the "security breach." In preparation of my layover in Denver, I layered up like a bad onion. Adding my "construction boots," as Latisha called them, I was the perfect Yankee- still in a "southern state." Sweating profusely, we decided to bypass the Acme Oyster House opting for a bit more "southern flair." Good ol' Popeye's it was! I don't think fried chicken has ever tasted so good. Upon finishing our soulful lunch, we both knew it was time. As she handed me the rest of my bags, we hugged and snapped a picture to always remember our airport adventure together. But mine was just beginning.
     How many times have I flown? Two? And those two times were 10+ years ago and make for my best horror stories. Hopefully, that will explain what is to come. I'm walking up to be scanned, patted and groped, and feeling very pressured at this point to know exactly what is expected of me. I look ahead to watch what others are doing, but there isn't enough time. While taking off my shoes, I see that the others are also taking off jackets, watches, etc. Here we go. I began stripping the necessities when I notice that the guy in front of me is a little taken back by my ignorance. He sets up two plastic bins for me and flashes a slight grin in light of my behavior. I'm ready. Shoes off, bags in bin, and ready to "walk the plank." Stepping through the beeper machine....nothing! YES!!! SCORE!!! Suckerrrs! (haha) I walked over to collect my things and it was almost as if they were convinced that I was hiding a pound of cocaine in the lining of my purse. "Who's is this??" I raised my hand in shame as I walked over to my things being fondled more than I had been. Then, from the shadows, another voice harks, "Who owns this laptop?" (Dang it!) "Yes, sir, that is mine." "Well, I'm going to have to put it back through the scanner because you did not take it out of its' case," he so callously muttered. At this point, I refer back to my purse and she, the first security guard, is pulling out a wine opener that I had planned on using to gut every passenger on flight 606 with...or so she thought. I sincerely apologized and explained my line of work. I got away with a stern warning and headed for my gate. Whew.
      I found my gate and I was about an hour and half early. But I wasn't the only one. There were probably about thirty people there already napping. I sat down with a sigh of relief and proceeded to insert my headphones. And here he comes. The "I'm from California and own my own bar and you should take notice to me" guy. And where does he sit? Yep.... And anyone who knows me, knows that I would rather swim with sharks than give him the satisfaction of taking notice. He proceeds to call someone (because he has plenty of friends) and talk at a volume that baggage claim could hear. "Yeah, dude, last night was SO much fun!" (Because chicks dig fun.) By this point, I'm more interested in the 87 year old grandmother sleeping face down on her own lap while her husband is just discovering text messaging. THAT is what I call fun. Now swarming from the left, we have the forty-something year old women, who so desperately long to be the twenty-something year old women. And when I say "swarm," I mean they are literally in the only open floor space available, taking up every inch. At first I just thought it was coincidence, but, no....There were about thirty of them, and they were all together and on the same flight... my flight. Was there a Bon Jovi concert I didn't know about? Because I clearly would have rescheduled had I known. As the crows discuss which private school is best for their children, I am quickly growing restless. "Now boarding flight 606 to Denver." Thank God!
     I board the plane and look for my seat, 34a. Walking, walking, walking...."Oh, there it is!" The last seat in the plane. The two men already sitting in seats 34b and c were looking quite comfortable. No problem. I have the window seat. :) The gentlemen who were sharing my row were VERY nice and helped me with my luggage and were more than happy to move for me to have my view. After settling in, I start to get that feeling like I am being watched. I look over and who is it? California guy directly across the aisle with a very creepy grin. Eesh! I rolled my eyes and went about my flight.
     I don't know about anyone else, but I don't mind the flying part. The blanket of clouds make for some incredible scenery. The only parts that I hate is the taking off and the landing. The only two points that I'm actually close to the ground. But it went well.
     As we flew into Denver, it was too cloudy to see anything...even the Rocky Mountains. :( It was cloudy and cold. It went from 68 in New Orleans to 5 in Denver. But, as I stated earlier, I was prepared! We began exiting the plane and somehow California guy finds his way back to me. I was searching for my gate when I hear "How long is your layover?" Wow. Really? Still? I quickly told him that by the time I find my gate, there won't be much of a layover. I think he got the hint.
     I searched high and low to find "Gate A61." I was in the B's. Down the escalator, up the escalator. I finally asked the Sprint guy who was originally trying to sell me a phone where in the heck I was supposed to go. Apparently, there is a train, yes, a train, you have to take over to the "A" side. I sucked it up and acted like I had done this a million times. It worked. I made it to my gate, finally.
     The flight to Gillette was a little different. The gate was not really a gate but more like a place to stand and the employee helping us check in was way passed his retirement. He informed me that the flight was, in fact, delayed because there was a winter storm hitting all along the Northwest. Yay! I can pee! After taking care of my business, it was only about 30 minutes that we had to wait until they were ready.
     People started lining up as usual to board. Much to my surprise, there was no tunnel to the plane. We were the tunnel. We had to walk about 2 blocks to what should not be considered an air-worthy machine. I climb the stairs to the 14 passenger plane and quickly realize that free nuts will not be an option. After having to "de-ice" the paper plane, we were ready for lift off. I have never in my life heard a louder noise come out of a machine. And it didn't end until we landed. But we did land. :)

     I thankfully exited the noise maker and came face to face with what made it all worth while. There Ray stood with a big smile and a cardboard sign written "Mr. Bonanza." (See Seinfeld episode "The Watch") He was the only one in the airport. (ha) I quickly felt like I was home. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. They were right