by Cat Calhoun
Temp House, Austin, Texas, USA
I love to fly. That moment when the engine gears up and the wheels start to roll? Don’t talk to me, man. I don’t wanna chitchat with you. I want to experience that thrill I get when the nose lifts off the ground and I’m pinned to my seat, that weightless moment when the plane is accelerating into the air, that raw power of the machine! Yes!! Love it!
But then there are those flights where I stow my bag under the seat in front of me, strap myself in, the plane rolls away from the gate, it gets still and I just know I’m going to be in Thrillsville in a second….. and then the captain’s voice comes over the speakers and says, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are experiencing a departure delay…” Now I’m parked on the pavement in an increasingly hot metal tube with a bunch of disgruntled, muttering people who just want to get where they are going.
Right now, right this second, my wife and I are stuck on the tarmac of our big adventure. We are parked in our short term rental waiting for documents, sorting through the remaining flotsam and jetsam, trying to figure out what long term address the IRS will use to badger us, getting my mother-in-law’s papers in order (because we’ve added the complication of moving her to Mexico as well) and don’t know exactly when the adventure will continue. Until then, we’ll wait for passports, visas, marriage certificates, and the like and I’ll gripe about it on a blog.