Travel

I find I write best in airport terminals while I'm waiting on my various flights. I've survived the stress of security checkpoints where I always get a little nervous even though I have nothing to hide (except that rogue bottle of conditioner left over from my color-in-a-box that failed to make it into the Ziploc baggie. Woops.); I successfully checked two bags with no charge and no hassle (good thing because I'm not sure I could have lived without my box o' brownie mix and Shredded Wheat); and Starbucks miraculously managed to nail my double over ice with vanilla making it 8 different kinds of delicious, a vast improvement from their usual offerings. 

Let me just say, for the record, that Charlotte Douglas International Airport has morphed into a sunlight and glass wonderland since the Democratic Convention was held downtown last year. There are welcoming white rocking chairs scattered throughout, including the one in which I'm sitting located on the lofted balcony just outside the USO Conference room. I'm afforded a view of a whole host of parked and taxiing planes and one or two taking off if I glance to my right at the opportune moment. There's a new clock tower at the epicenter between Terminals C and A-B that is one of the most creative I've ever seen. On the very top, above the clock, is a small air traffic control man whose arms, complete with fluorescent sticks, move up and down at regular intervals. Below the clock faces, there are four tiers of revolving flight craft all created from thin painted metal. The Wright brothers are on the bottom tier and apparently, there was a guy on a small bicycle strapped on top of the foremost wings. Odd... don't remember that part of history. 

Flying with them on the same level are Icarus complete with waxy bird wings and the dangerous sun, a hot air balloon which must have been invented by the French if the flag flying behind it is any indication, and a weird platform in the sky with a double set of propellers and an open, elongated body below where passengers sit - this also flying a French flag. 

The other tiers include a paper airplane with every genetic combination of white girl playing jump rope on top (my paper airplanes were never good enough to host PE activities); a bi-plane with a chorus line of dancers on the upper wing called the "Ace Air Stars" (did these things really happen? Because I feel like one misstep in those routines was a bit more than just an ankle sprain... "Oops! We lost Janice... keep going girls, the show must go on."); a German blimp with a concert pianist on top (what I call a true feat of German engineering); a US space shuttle with dangling astronauts (one of whom in turn is dragging his dog through outer space on a leash); and an 8-blade old-fashioned helicopter where a late commuter appears to have grabbed on to the bottom and is flying through the air dangling his briefcase behind him. Truly flights of aeronautical fancy, all of which are contributing to my current moment of zen. Bravo, Charlotte Douglas, bravo. It is now truly a pleasure flying with you.