Of course we were running late.
Literally. We were running as gracefully as possible with our laptops banging against our thighs and other assorted luggage bags flapping all over the place. And of course I was pulled aside by security to have my insulin pump checked out. I was wearing khaki capri pants and the pump was safely tucked into my pocket. The security guard woman beeping me over with her wand told me her cousin wore an insulin pump.
"Girl, why aren't you wearing it on that clip thing? That makes things much easier."
"Yeah, but I don't want it just hanging out there. I'm a quiet-pumper."
The beeper wand let loose with a loud "BEEP" every time it passed over my pocket with the pump.
"Not today, you're not." She grinned, told me to put my damn shoes back on, and have a safe flight.
My poor Editor-in-Chief (EIC). She was my travel partner to the AADE today and had the pleasure of watching me go from (quasi?) normal human being to a jittery, nervous-to-fly girl.
"Is it the taking off? The landing?" She asked, trying to pin-point my panic.
"It's the taking off. The landing. The flying. The airport." I grinned nervously. "It's sort of everything."
Next to us, a little girl about 4 years old was standing on one of the chairs, pressing her face against the terminal window and pointing to the plane we were about to board.
"Hey daddy. Daddy, that plane is dirty. How did it get so dirty?"
Her father held her around the waist to keep her from tipping backwards. "I'm not sure, honey."
She scrinched up her nose. "I know! That plane went up in the sky? And then it flew upsidedown? And then it crashed down into a puddle of mud and then it came here."
My face became ash-white. My EIC giggled as I looked over at the little girl. Her father laughed and leaned in to her.
"No, honey. I'm sure that didn't happen."
"Birds," I offered from my seat, scared of the imagination of a four-year-old and waiting desperately for the xanax to kick in. "If it's dirty, it's from the birds."
Her father caught my drift. "Yes, birds! The birds think the plane is a really big bird and they come up and give it a kiss. That's why it's dirty!" He gave me a thumbs up while his daughter contemplated this fact.
"Covered in bird lipstick." I offered, smirking. The father nodded his head.
"Completely." The little girl gave me a wave as they moved to the boarding line.
Thankfully, the ol' xanax kicked in before I could say "Sky Mall," and I was out cold for the entire flight from NYC to St. Louis. Also thankfully, I didn't end up drooling in my drug-induced sleep on my boss. (Blood sugars, though stress was a big elevated today, held remarkably steady at 90, 134, 143, and then 91 mg/dl. I was pleased.)
More updates tomorrow night, including some photos of that gorgeous St. Louis arch, and of the St. Louis ballpark, where I can see homeplate from my hotel window.