I’m at O’Hare for a 3 hour layover en route to Tampa FL for some sun, tennis and to visit a friend who relocated to sunnier climes last year. The airport is a busy, wired place–literally. Almost everyone, including myself, is plugged into some personal electronic device. Although there are some exceptions. There is an older couple (my definition of older is that they are at least 15 years older than me) reading an old-fashioned newspaper. There is a group of energetic and boisterous high school students apparently on their way on some school-sponsored adventure; each step of the journey will be well-documented with a series of selfies – including several from gate B5. I admire their energy and enthusiasm, which contrasts with the reserve exhibited by the majority of our fellow early morning travelers.
There are small family ‘pods’ several of whom are engaged in conversations, taking turns comforting fussy babies, sharing coffee, checking their phones. There is a young couple that is completely engrossed with each other; they are in their own little world and are compelled to frequently touch each other in flirtatious, sweet and playful ways.
The combination of the rigid plastic seats and my new Fitbit, begging for steps to count, got me up and moving. I did a few laps around the B terminal observing the random blend of humanity around me. I was struck by the percentage of Asian travelers wearing face masks. What do they know that I don’t? The most memorable award goes to the striking young Asian woman/girl sporting long bleached-blond hair, a pair of hot pink boots and a matching hot-pink carry-on.
Last night was a whirl of travel preparation while also dealing with a larger-than-usual critical mass of work related issues. Packing also required some executive decisions. We have several pieces of luggage of various sizes. This includes one truly ginormous suitcase, nicknamed Bertha, which (whom?) is usually reserved for major trips. I was faced with the challenge of traveling with my tennis racket–the length of which precludes it from unpaid carry-on status. Hopefully my racket is sufficiently padded within the cloth walls of Bertha to arrive in Tampa intact.
I will be participating in a rigorous (outdoor!) tennis camp for the next two days. Although I did pack sunscreen, I failed to bring Ibuprofen. I will add that to my Florida shopping list – along with a pair of hot pink boots.