Fly. Earn. Share.

It’s 10:05 on a Friday night and I’m standing in the longest line EVER at Duane Reade.  I just want to get home and peel my Spanx off; not only was that date an absolute waste of time, but I missed getting to Trader Joe’s before closing and now I’ve got to pay double for organic milk.  Oh my god I’ve never seen this many people in a drugstore in my life.  OdoubleMG, the guy in front of me on line just turned around I swear to god he’s a model or something.  He’s got a British accent, but very non-posh, like a Cockney or something, and he’s calling to some woman behind me to grab a couple more.  That’s when I see the half-dozen boxes of Lucky Charms he’s cradling in his arms. And then Niki, I shit you not, this Adonis must read the questioning look on my face and says, “they’re twice as much at home, like 8£ a box”.  I’m too stunned at this waste of beauty to respond.  I guess he thinks I’m still confused because he adds “that’s like $16?”

8 min on the F train 4/25/14
prompt from Jet Blue transit ad

“I’m not here to give you shit, but I kinda am.”

“Look, I know it’s no one’s fault, it’s the weather, but I just spent $50 on a cab so I wouldn’t be late for this flight y’all cancelled.  Not your problem the fifty bucks, but I need to get on that next flight.”  He’s leaning way over the counter invading the Air Canada’s rep personal space.  I imagine his breath redolent of Jack or Jameson’s.

Air Canada has just cancelled every other flight into their Eastern seaboard destinations.  Airports are normally a  hotbed of personal drama but right now Terminal One of Pearson International Airport is like a Law & Order marathon on A&E.  

“You know how many calories are in that Starbucks drink?  Eight hundred.  Yeah, Eight hundred calories,”  says the irritated coach to his collegiate athlete.  We are standing in line at Customer Service when the kid saunters up with the Venti cup.

The Connecticut blonde is going off again, “Why am I standing in line if all I want to do is leave the airport?  Why do I have to stand in a line to leave the airport?  My flight is cancelled, I just want to leave.”  The businessmen have stopped paying attention, so her questions have become rhetorical.

“Canada is kicking my ass right now.”


8 min @ Pearson International Airport, 5.15.13

all quotes heard at Terminal 1

monday getaway

“I don’t have anything to do.”  This is a common plaint of the nephews when they know exactly what they want to do but know it’s outside their reach.  This is usually an activity involving a screen.  It’s a version of the “I’m bored” whine I used to serve, sans cheese, at my semi-regular ennui parties.  It was a very exclusive guest list, no plus ones.  Just me.

These weren’t pity parties, they were highly choreographed dances of ennui.  The ennui never bothered me – I am a certifiable Francophile, it was french ergo romantic and poetic.  And then one day, I was shamed out of my atelier of boredom.  The rant went something like this,

“Boredom is for losers.  There is no reason, living in a First World urban center, to ever be bored.  Especially if you’re a creative being.  If you’ve got time to be bored, you’ve got time to be creative.  Stop being a fucking baby -“

Full disclosure: the rant came from deep within moi.  It’s the voice with the buzz cut and a penchant for camo fatigues.  It is harsh but it is also effective.  I don’t indulge in the ennui pas de deux anymore, although sometimes my feet itch to tread on foreign soil.  Wanderlust doesn’t’ sound quite as poetic in french; passion du voyage, but passion is the key word.  When I’m feeling antsy and restless I know passion is lacking in whatever I’m currently focused on.   Hoping on a plane might be out of reach, but creative solutions are not.

Do you wish you were on a beach?  Make a beach!  In your backyard, in your living room, on your roof.  Turn up the heat and break out the blender.  You don’t feel like producing something, fine, ingest a little culture.  There are museums and libraries and pockets of the city where you can walk blocks and hear little english.  You can literally ingest a new and/or foreign experience; travel via your digestive tract.  Pack appropriately.

Can’t get to Thailand?  Go to Broadview and Gerrard (Toronto), Hollywood and Normandie (Los Angeles) or Elmhurst, Queens (New York).  Maybe you’re not craving Thai crickets, maybe it’s Brazilian barbecue you fancy.  It’s your choice.

And here’s the beauty, if you are reading this, you can have access to the adventure you crave.  Thank you Al Gore.

Wherever your travels take you this week, I hope they are delicious!