Hel-lo from Wis-co! It is a federal holiday weekend; therefore, I am not in D.C. I am home in Coleman where the snow is about five feet less deep than when I was here for Christmas. The 32 degree weather is an abrupt change from the 73 degrees that I left behind in D.C. though.
Naturally, when I arrived at National airport yesterday, I found that my flight had been cancelled (“the plane broke”) and they rebooked me on a flight three hours after my original flight. I immediately had traumatic flashbacks to being stuck in the airport on my way home for Christmas. I knew that I could not bear to stay in that airport for any length of time and stay sane. I did some quick commuter math in my head and realized that trekking home and trekking back to the airport really did not make sense. Then I remembered that Pentagon City Mall was just two Metro stops away. So I checked my luggage (as an apology for the cancelled flight, they did not charge a baggage fee) and hopped on the Metro.
For you to fully understand how much I could not stand to sit the airport terminal, you must first understand that to me, Pentagon City Mall is my hell on earth. I cannot stand that place. At all. Once upon a time, I loved shopping in malls. Then I went to Pentagon City Mall. It is always packed, always filled with high school tour groups (yes, I once was one of them long ago), and always loud. The stores are pure chaos and picked over. And the food court sits at the center of the atrium of the mall so the whole place always smells like Sbarro. Yet compared to the uncomfortable airport terminal seats and crummy food choices, Pentagon City Mall became heaven on earth, albeit momentarily.
So I bought a Tall Skim Latte at Starbucks and sat in the mall food court reading a book by Alan Greenspan. And then I set out to peruse the stores. I have seriously cut back on my shopping but I could not pass up on some nice jeans at Macy’s marked down to 19 dollars. And then I saw this purse at Nordstrom and fell in love. SO perfect for spring. So I had to have it.

The flower pattern of this purse became the latest addition in the menagerie of patterns that I was travelling with. Note: I am very conscious of patterns so I had to burst out laughing when I noticed the fashion disaster that I was hauling along.

The flight boarded on time and I found myself seated in the last row, next to a little girl (maybe six years old?) who was travelling by herself (to visit her grandma, I later learned) and had brought with her what seemed to be her entire toy collection. There were Barbie dolls by my feet. A teddy bear’s legs kept getting jammed into my side.
And she talked. And talked. And talked. And talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked. I was attempting to read and listen to my Ipod. But she kept chatting it up with me so I kept pulling my earbuds out to listen. And then I thought she had finished, I would put them back in. And then she would start talking again. So I surrendered and just turned my Ipod off. And she talked and talked and talked. I knew her life story in about five minutes. As well as these conversational gems:
Why do ears pop? Do you know how to unpop them? My dad taught me how to unpop mine. Did your dad teach you how to do that? Isn’t my doll’s hair pretty? That’s a pretty garden (pointing at a picture in the magazine that I had on my tray table). The flowers are in a pretty row. Flying through clouds is like flying through marshmallows. Can you get me a glass of water? Are they coming with cookies soon? Where is the bathroom?
I was like the inflight nanny.
And then she hits me with this one: Why do planes fly? I have a basic understanding of how they fly but how do you explain that to a six-year old. Um, angels carry them? HA! So I just said “I don’t know” and then quickly changed the subject and asked “So do you live in D.C.?” At this point she looked at me very thoughtfully and replied, “Stranger safety guidelines indicate that I should not talk to strangers.”
Um…I really just had to laugh out loud when she said that. But bravo to whomever taught her to not talk to strangers about where she lived. They might want to work on the rest of the details though.
Luckily, we landed short thereafter. And as we were standing up, one of the passengers sitting across from me said, “Wow, you really won the seat lottery, didn’t you?” And everyone seated around me just started laughing.
I really just want my own jet.