Yes, that’s right, I’m at Austin Airport, hanging in the Admirals Club Lounge, sipping my DIY iced chamomile tea, waiting for my flight to JFK and then the long haul to Heathrow. Wuzza-wuzza poor me. Hey, I’m not feeling guilty. Like many I’ve been holed up for the past 2+ years, me busily reading a plethora of time travel and other sordid fiction, then actually writing my own novel and making art out of trash to wile away my worries.
My adult daughter and I managed to feed people (lots of them) during the famous Texas-Fuck You-Greg Abbott-snowpocalypse as well as providing goody bags to the heat stricken homeless both before and after. Yes, we managed to busy ourselves helping others during Covid. We were lucky to have had the resources.
I cannot and am not complaining. I consider myself a truly lucky duck. And this quacker is gonna let a big ole airplane fly her to the land of crumpets, orange marmalade and high tea – temporarily far away from the craziness that has infected Texas.
Admittedly I am going to miss the myriad of 7am adorable doggy licks, my amazing grandkids, my adult kids and my art studio, oh yeah and my friends, though some are escaping the horrific thermometer-busting heat of Texas. I’m also meeting my good friend Jackie in less than a week in Barcelona, thus commencing our culinary invasion of Spain and Portugal.
I’m equipped with my FodMap list (bummer), a bag of homeopathic remedies and Xanax to keep me from writhing in agony should I over indulge. The plus side of reduced consumption is I may actually fit into the jeans I packed which “just” fit, when I lie down to zip ‘em up. Geez, It’s like I’m having a flashback to my youthful days of wearing tight sexy jeans to flirt with rock and roll legends. Ah, the good ole days. But now those legends are either 6 feet under or barely able to zip up their own jeans, let alone unzip mine. I shall not reminisce since my kids have heard me do so ad nauseum and they might be reading this.
I thought that by sitting in a little side room, I avoid the riffraff and Fox News, but no. Fortunately the very loud, drunken women travelers who were here when I arrived have just stumbled to the bathroom, and with any luck their departure gate…for now I am alone, with a businessman who appears to be shedding tears at the stock market. I’d offer him a serviette but I don’t want to butt in and jeopardize his solitude.
Did I mention very few people are wearing masks? Friggin crazy, I tell you, I am shocked and dismayed. Then again I’m still in Texas, plus I realize we are all tired of the plague, but we’re having a surge again, everywhere. But me? I’m armed with extra masks, hand sanitizer wipes and my obsessive compulsive habit of washing my hands while singing happy birthday, Feliz compleanos, and Mary had a little lamb, till my digits closely resemble my wine colored travel blazer. Seriously, I’m determined to have a healthy and extremely fun holiday. I’m doing what I can.
Well, that’s enough for now. I’m now aiming to post this Texas ramble before I board. Stay tuned.