Ain't Nobody Gonna Wait for You

I'm not the best of fliers.  This is known.  For me a good plane trip is anyone where I don't end up tossing my cookies everywhere.

Flying back to NYC is always an adventure because there aren't any direct flights.  I'll have to take a couple of connecting flights.  These flights are usually pretty short, which is great on one hand, but not great on the other because with shorter flights I swear there's more turbulence, and in my case more turbulence means more cookie tossing.

When I finally land in NYC I always sort of want to throw myself to the ground and just lie there and catch my breath for a moment.  But I can't do that, because it's New York.  And in New York you gotta go fast.  Everyone is always moving.  And they're going fast.  I don't hate it.  Fast is fine.  But it always takes me a bit of time to get my land-legs back.  And to quell the roiling nausea.

The taxi queue at LaGuardia is really really really far away from the luggage retrieval area. I'm talking multiple football fields of distance.  Which isn't really that far at all until you imagine little old me carrying two giant suitcases, a medium sized suitcase, and a purse so large it looks like an animal.

There are no people ahead of me in the queue.  That makes me happy.  Airport days are always full of waiting, so anytime there's less waiting, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  Right when I walked up to the taxi stand area with my three tons of luggage, a person was getting into a taxi and leaving.

Taxi Stand Man, who must have been a thousand years old, asked me where I was going and waved me to the next taxi. The taxi driver saw my three tons of luggage and waved at me to stay where I was; he was going to pull the car up to me.  Taxi Stand Man did not appreciate this.  He got real shouty.  I couldn't really understand what he was saying, so I stayed put.  His gestures were very clear that he wanted me to go towards the taxi.  He didn't understand why I wasn't moving.  I looked up at the taxi driver who now actively had the car in drive, coming towards me.  There was no where for me to go without walking in front of the moving car.  Taxi Stand Man did not appreciate my lack of movement.  He continued shouting even more; he was louder now too, because he was frustrated with my lack of forward motion.





Y'all know I love it when seemingly random interactions with strangers tell you something that you need to hear.  The universe was sending me a message, a quintessentially New York message, but a message nonetheless.  I needed to get my metaphorical self into gear.  And maybe you do too.

Just remember:  Ain't nobody gonna wait for you.  You gotta move.


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