What is it about airline travel that makes my hair feel like an oil-slick? No intense, sweaty workout makes me feel that greasy. I was already feeling like this when I landed in Miami, that other country southeast of Tampa. At least it felt like another country. I think I was the only one on the plane or at the Miami Airport who did NOT speak Spanish. That's on my list of things to start soon - but that's another story.
Upon touchdown in Tampa, the elderly woman across the aisle from me did the sign of the cross - fearful, but thankful for a safe landing.
It wasn't long before I was off the plane and headed down to baggage claim - with a quick stop to the ladies room. That's when I was hit by that moment of panic when I noticed that my company-issued Blackberry was missing. My foggy brain was slow trying to put the facts together. I was on the plane and called Tim to let him know we landed. Heading for the tram, I used it to check my email. How could I have lost it in that short distance?
I left the ladies room and headed up the escalator to get to Point A to retrace my steps when a voice behind me asked "did you drop this" and my Blackberry was suddenly in view. I looked to see who this kind samaritan was only to find that it was my evil boyfriend who had snuck up behind me and lifted it like a practiced pick-pocket. No kiss for him!!
He did try to make it up to me by taking me out to dinner, and then we went home and watched a movie, and went to bed early. I just got up... after 12 hours of sleep.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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