A footnote for 2010.
I hate flying. I’m not scared. I’m nervous. Nervous of missing a flight. Nervous of forgetting my passport. Nervous of seeing hideous people in tank tops and shorts in December. Nervous of being nervous.
Perversely, I always get to the airport early. Typically flights are always late. More time to be nervous.
So I visit the XpresSpa and indulge in a neck massage or a foot massage or a manicure.
Last week I was extra nervous after seeing a woman remove her coat at the security check and stand there, wearing a bikini.
So I treated myself to a manicure and an extra pedicure.
But the flight was on time and there was not enough time for my toe nails to dry completely and I was offered disposable flip-flops.
It was not a pretty sight as I flipped and flopped to gate 74, laden with luggage.
Nowadays I carry everything on my shoulders, because I cannot bear to use my silver McQueen ribcage wheelie – nor will I buy anything less beautiful.
Passengers in smart shoes and sensible wheelies gave me pitying looks (“that poor bag lady without shoes…”).
And blue toe nails to boot.
Ho Ho Ho
Written by: Gladys Perint Palmer
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