Don’t mess with a Goddess in Texas

San Antonio Riverwalk

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Happy Baby Daddy Day and all that jazz. And “you’re welcome” those who aren’t paying child support thanks to the loving wonder that is non-rhythm-method contraception! (That’s the REAL meaning behind “getting lucky,” eh?)

Am currently sitting in the San Antonio airport, waiting to fly home to my mommy. Barf gag and kill me now.

Actually, we did have a near-death experience on the way out here. I flew to Charlotte, where my beloved T and I ended up on the same connecting flight to Texas. The flight was fine until about 10 minutes before landing, when the captain came over the PA system with some not-so-encouraging news.

Let me explain first that about five minutes before this, my seatmate pointed out the window to the wing that we were directly over. She said, “Do you notice that we’re flying REALLY LOW and the flaps haven’t come up yet?”

Hmm. She was right — we WERE kind of busting a move considering that we were about to land. She went on to tell me she had gotten trapped for 10 hours in Norfolk, and another eight hours in Charlotte, so maybe this was her bad luck manifesting itself ONE MORE TIME before she landed in her destination city.

So the captain comes on with a, “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s nothing to worry about … but there is an ABNORMALITY with the wings, as the flaps that slow down our speed stopped working in mid-flight.”

In other words, “O HAI the brakes aren’t working properly.”

Now, there was a mild amount of panic on the plane. Except for seat 12A (mine). I was channeling Ron White in an old “Blue Collar Comedy” skit and thinking, fine, let it crash — “I don’t want to limp away from this thing.”

I had probably cried during half the flight because I suddenly found myself with far too much free time to obsess over the federal disaster area that my life has unwittingly become. It didn’t help that my plane from South Florida to Charlotte was ultimately bound for National Airport (DCA), my home-away-from-home when I lived in D.C. The pending crappy landing on the plane from CLT to SAT was even-more of a sign that I should have stayed on the CLT-to-DCA flight.

Anyway, the pilot went on to warn us not to be alarmed but we were going to make a bump on the landing strip and not to worry about all the additional emergency personnel and equipment that would be waiting for us. (I never saw fire trucks on a runway before. What an epic experience.)

Meanwhile, T was talking to the flight attendant, who was telling fear-inducing stories about some recent rough landings. I am almost jealous that she was rattled by the airborne events because she has stuff to live for. I tend to find that all my traveling partners have people to call when they land and before they take off. I Tweet. That’s it. And I don’t even know why I do that, to be quite honest with you.

Anyway, we were re-routed to the longest runway and emerged unharmed. In fact, had the pilot not said a word about the faulty equipment, we wouldn’t have noticed. I’ve been through some tumultuous landings in my day and this wasn’t one of them.

God bless the pilot on that U.S. Airways flight. I know this landing won’t ever make headlines, but apparently this pilot went to the Captain Sully school of flying, and despite my overall death wish, I’m glad, because I had a great weekend ahead of me.

San Antonio is all right. I neither loved nor hated it. It’s boring and crappy in the daytime, but things light up at night. The Riverwalk is absolutely beautiful — it’s like all the city’s culture is down at water level.

We went out with a bunch of old colleagues last night — people who treated us like absolute royalty. Because we rock and all, but still, it’s good to remember where I came from and to know that certain people will always have my back.

I’m sure I could type for another 40 pages, all the stuff rolling through my head. Most of it boils down to “WTF did I just do to my life?” It’s not that anything big has happened, but rather a series of little things that have created a surmountable, but certainly stinky, shitpile.

And whether or not I’m in the right place, being with “my people” last night reminded me to be very, very grateful for the experiences I’ve had during the past five years and to kiss the ground for the relationships I’ve developed throughout the years.

I seriously need to write a thank-you letter to my old boss and the owner of my last company to thank them for every door they opened for me. Because people I thought I’d never see/work with again, are back in my life and God I am so happy that THEY are are excited to be crossing MY path again.

One of the guys did a lovely toast to us and WOW was I surprised at what he said about me. It’s all true, but my cold, dark heart warmed at the respect and damn-near REVERENCE he showed.

So, all in all, I came to San Antonio with tears in my eyes as I once again grieved for my old life in D.C. But I am leaving again with a tear or two … mostly from exhaustion but definitely with a huge sigh of relief that this very rough period is going to pass and that I have a lot of really amazing, influential people looking out for me.

And it goes without saying that my gratitude for them reminding me who I am — even if I feel my star hasn’t been shining much of late — will carry me through and will hold up my little heart if and when it threatens to break again.

One Lonely Response to Don’t mess with a Goddess in Texas

  1. Caterwauling :

    […] You know, since my foot was through the floor and all and it was a wonderful moment of brake FAIL. (Which is a recurring theme — airplanes, cars, whatev.) […]