I spent a good half hour in the men’s room trying to make myself look and smell presentable. I rinsed out my muddy socks and sneakers in the sink, wringing the socks as dry as possible before slipping them back on, stuffing paper towels into my sneakers to absorb some of the moisture.
I practically showered under that tap, washing my hair with that medicinal-smelling soap from the dispenser. I didn’t care about the stares, and I drew plenty.
I emerged from that washroom a much better representative of humanity that the one who had entered. At least folks wouldn’t be as disgusted to sit next to me on the plane.
I was still giddy over the idea that I was in a weapons-free zone. Here, past security, no one could touch me. I hadn’t felt this relaxed since Florida. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be calm.
It seemed unbelievable, but it was true. By this time tomorrow, I would be walking through the same city as Karla, breathing the same air, watching the same clouds. That made me positively giddy.
Feeling so up, of course, negated any chance of seeing her in Root any time soon, but I if I ever saw Root again if I could link up with Karla in the flesh.
I wandered the terminal, too restless to sit. I had thick wad of cash in my jeans but resisted the temptation to load up on a bunch of junk from the gift shops. I would have loved to have gotten a travel pillow and a fresh T-shirt but they were way overpriced.
I passed by a display of junky earrings and immediately thought of Karla, but an airport was a ridiculous place to buy a gift like that like that. I was sure I would have plenty of opportunity in Rome.
I did pick up a newspaper, though, along with a Peach Snapple and a Kit Kat. I thought I might as well catch up on what was going on in the world and calm my hunger pangs. I didn’t want to stumble into the middle of a war or a natural disaster, not that either were likely in a place like Italy.
The front page had a big article about the Occupy movement. I still had no idea what that crap was all about. All I knew were the jokes and quips I had overheard in public and by DJs on the radio—in other words, folks as ignorant as me. At least I had the sense to keep my mouth shut until I had a chance to figure out what that deal was all about.
Apparently, a big protest march had just gotten busted up in DC with hundreds of people getting arrested on the National Mall. And now there were solidarity protests popping up around the world. My take on it? Good for them. At least someone cared enough about what was going on in the world to do something.
The chocolate bar only made me hungrier. I couldn’t help myself and grabbed a slice of Sbarro pizza from the food court. When I returned to the gate, I saw the pilots and aircrew arrive in their green and gold uniforms. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were real African pilots, not some European mercenaries. Cool.
When the boarding announcement came, I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. My heart thumped with anticipation. I could feel Root retreating from my consciousness at light speed, making for the weirdest mix of triumph and worry. In one sense, Karla and I were getting farther apart in one world, and closer in the other. I just hoped I was making the right choice about which one mattered more.
I stepped through the gate and onto the weird little bus with benches that would take us to the plane. Good bye America.
***
I had only flown a couple times before. The first time was with Mom and Dad just before we moved to Florida. They told me we were just going to Disney World but in actuality we had gone to close on the house.
