Hartsfield Concourse D, Chili's 7:56a

My heart fell as I stepped into the security line in the Atrium. I’ve never started in the security line so far back. I forgot that the folks here setup the journey to the TSA folks with a ‘maze’. Like rats hunting for cheese we follow the right path back and forth among those who had chosen the left path wondering just how many more steps we had to take before handing over our boarding pass and photo identification. For a line that looked like it might take an hour and a half, I made it cleanly to the escalators in twenty minutes. While listening in on the conversations around me in line, my choice to not check my ‘duffle’ was validated.

Every holiday season there’s a snag in the system somewhere. The first time I flew out from here for Christmas I waited ninety minutes to check-in. It was so bad that I pulled out my copy of Lord of the Rings and began my first reading of this epic while standing next to south terminal baggage belt #1. Shortly after my Tolkien experience, they installed the self-service kiosks, which made the whole thing much easier. In addition to the check-in fiasco, I’ve been stuck on a MARTA train, waited more hours in the security line than I care to admit, and forgotten the departure gate. For the mandated trip home for Christmas, I now know to allow two hours or more in the airport itself - and to pack a book.

I had chili-shaped pancakes for breakfast, the pancakes were a little thick for my taste, but they beat the emergency peanuts I travel with hands down.

I had yet to experience today’s snag when I started writing this post, but I found today’s snag just after finishing breakfast. I somehow managed to find the bathroom stall with the door that wouldn’t stay closed. It’s not that the door didn’t want to close. It’s that to much door banging in the stalls down the line worked the latch free and the door would pop open - outward.

The hurry up and wait nature of holiday travel is trying my patience this very moment. With help of Xavier I’ve stopped eavesdropping on my neighbors conversations, but right now all I want to do is get this show on the road. I’ve only been sitting in the gate for about five minutes, but the uncomfortable unproductiveness claws at me. I’m OK with general laziness, but to be uncomfortable and lazy at the same time just doesn’t work for me.

I left the flat today without checking to see what the weather at the new homestead will bring for the next several days. I’m not even sure what I packed last night, much less if I can actually make solid warm outfits from the stuff in the duffle. I think maybe next time Î pack I should be awake. We’ll see what I forgot when I get there, but this could be very bad. Not as bad as my freshman year in college when I left all of my dirty laundry at school and was home for three weeks with the clothes on my back and what I’d left in the closet when I ran away to school. The worst part is that I’d left those clothes behind on purpose.