I used to hate flying. I was terrified of planes, didn't like the stress that came with airport security checkpoints, and really didn't like spending $4 for a bottle of water.
In fact, on my first flight to Alabama as a CDC, I nearly had a breakdown because we only arrived 50 minutes before our flight took off (the horror!). We made that plane, and throughout the rest of the year, I navigated canceled flights, long security lines, and getting to the airport with under an hour until my flight.
Somewhere along the tens of thousands of miles I traveled, airports became my "me" place. They were where I treated myself to Starbucks, caught up on blogs, watched Hulu, worked on reports. And planes, the things I used to be the most afraid of, became my place to enjoy a good book or write thank you notes.
The airports and planes were my routine. In a year where I felt like nothing was constant, the traveling was something that never changed.
So here I am now, sitting in the Jacksonville Airport, with my first flight delayed and a pretty good chance that I'll miss both my booked connection and the back-up connection that my new Delta agent friend Kareem just helped me get on, and I'm at peace. I don't know if I'm going to be sleeping in my bed or on an airport bench tonight, but I feel pretty okay.
Nearly two years later, I am sitting here, catching up on blogs, drinking an Iced Passion Tea, and smiling because even though so much is different about my life and who I am, some things never change.