Turn around

My sister-in-law is a flight attendant. When we used to talk (we don't do that anymore) about her schedule, she'd tell me she had a turn around in this city, and then a turn around in that, meaning that she'd land and head out again on her next flight. It's tiring, what she does, I understand that. Especially because today after flying over the colors of the Green Mountains in Vermont, the Adirondacks in New York, and then over NYC, I changed planes and then we sat on the runway in Newark for 1.5 hours due to the weather in Houston. When we finally did take off, we were assured that there was no guarantee we'd arrive in Houston. So, I was not surprised when the pilot announced we were going to Corpus Christi and then we could go to Houston. I've flown from London in a shorter time.

But none of it bothered me. Not at all. Not the delay or the turbulence, the full plane, the crying babies in the seats in front of me. It was what it was. And I've had plenty of conversations with my sister-in-law to trust that air traffic control can inconvenience your plans, but, seriously, it's for your safety. And no one controls the weather.

Aside from that, what I had on my mind was these two munchkins and how silly and fun and delightful they are.

Oh, the turn around part. I arrived in Houston three hours later than what was scheduled. Nine hours from now, I'll be on another flight. Not quite a turn around in flight attendant speak, but for me, definitely. I'm heading to Philadelphia, for work. While I'm happy to return to cooler temperatures, and pleased that I packed for this trip last week, I must say that the anticipation of arriving at my destination is just not the same as it was when I was headed to Vermont.