AIRPORT: A place for planes to come and go, for awkward hello side-hugs and goodbye make-out sessions.  Where a pack of gum costs more than a gallon of gas and you can buy flowers and teddybears from a vending machine.  Where security is invaluable, wireless isn’t free, and people-watching is priceless.

It is exactly where summer began for me.  I bid farewell to Mali from the airport, passed through Paris and Houston, and finally ran home through the terminal of TUL.

To the Airport, on the love-hateness between us:
My, what a mix of emotions stirs in my stomach even now as I think about what to write.  I can’t figure you out.  I don’t even know what kind of letter this should be.  Let’s see, whaddya say we give the people what they want and let them decide?  I’ve got my grease-splattered Burger King visor on, so place your order and have it your way.

FUNNY/CUTE/HA! (Or stuff that makes me laugh)
Remember that time the ticket agent thought my brother was my husband? Or when I smashed a little girl’s finger in her suitcase handle and she wouldn’t stop bawling? And I’ll never forget the time I got my mom to the airport to pick up “Aunt Kay”, only to surprise her by being the one there—a week early from Mali!  Or the dynamic characters who have entertained me while waiting for flights…like the Texans who safari-hunted in Kenya, the young girl who regaled me with details of her boob job, or the soccer mom who preached for an hour on the dangers of Daycare.  LOL Airports!  So many good times!

SAPPY/MUSHY/BLAH (Or stuff that makes me cry)
I sat in the Tulsa airport reading a letter from my dad who said how proud he was of me for going to China.  When I left for Mali (Round Deux), my brother handed me a small plastic turtledove and said, “As long as we each have one, we’ll always be together.”  (And this is why the sequel is better than the original Home Alone.)  Or in the Houston baggage claim as Jenny and I parted, knowing we’d never again experience what we had over the past 6 months.  Ah, Airports, how you always have a way of bringing out the waterworks in me.

UGH!/WHAT?/NO WAY. (Or tales that knock my complementary wool AirFrance socks off)
Don’t ya just love sleeping in airports?  All night at LAX with nothing to do but readjust my carry-on slash pillow.  And the unforgettable slumber party at the Copenhagen airport brought to you by a metal bench and the creepy midnight cleaning crew.  My first arrival in Mali sans luggage, watching the conveyor belt and quickly learning the Bambara word for “Done!  No more!  Gone!  Finished!”  Or yet another arrival when the Mali Customs official said I couldn’t bring my bags into the country because they contained food.  Apparently nothing a one-dollar bill couldn’t solve. OMG! Craziness, Airports!

Or should I just admit that we will forever have this love-hate relationship.  When I come near you, serious physical responses will always ensue…butterflies in my stomach take flight, breaths become a little shorter, hands shake, vomiting sensation increases, and that salty, watery substance secretes from my eyes.  Not to mention the less-obvious side effects of exaggerated emotions and extreme paranoia.

But my dear readers, what do you think of Airport? Does it conjure up your favorite scenes from When Harry Met Sally, Love Actually, Almost Famous, or Casablanca?  Do you immediately start quoting the Seinfeld episodes that involve hilarious airport shenanigans.  Or are you like my brave friends back in Mali who could wow an audience for hours with harrowing stories of airport survival?

Ah, you gotta love a good airport story!  And I’d like to hear yours!  Tell me something sad or funny or strange about you and an airport…I’ll even make it worth your while.  Yes, because A is my favorite letter and I want to celebrate the kick-off of the Encyclopedia of Summer, all who comment with their airport story will be entered into a very random drawing to win the CD Better by Lauren McCuistion whose track “Everybody Knows My Name” is the ultimate airport song.

To you, Airport, let’s settle this later.  I think I’ll have many more yarns to spin before we’re finally through.  Thanks for ushering in my summer by providing the perfect backdrop for a reunion with the loved ones.  And for not really checking my bags at Customs.  I was pretty fond of that souvenir thingy with the seeds all over it.

Until next time,
A

Today was an ambitious birthday. So I’ve made some plans for us…
1. Take more naps. “I’d love a good nap. That’s the only thing getting me out of bed in the morning.” –George Costanza
2. Wear any and all clothes that still have tags on them.
3. Take piano lessons. The fingers are a little rusty after 12 years.
4. Reusable bags. Better than plastic. And fashionable to boot.
5. Try coffee. It might be an acquired taste. I didn’t touch salad until I was 18, so yes, Starbucks, there’s hope for yet another addict.
6. Read for pleasure: NO lesson plans, vocabulary quizzes, or essay questions. The first book of my 24th year will be Starting from Scratch: Memoirs of a Wandering Cook by the only professor who told me I wrote something worthy of being published or presented at a conference.
7. Organize my iPhoto folders.
8. Vote in my first presidential election. Where was I in 2004?
9. Go on a cruise. Addendum: On said cruise, meet exceedingly charming young man who fills my stomach with butterflies and my heart with summer lovin’. And whose name and face I forget immediately upon disembarkation.
10. Ride my bike. Inevitable result = save money. (Don’t spend money on shoes.)
11. Wear black cocktail dress to a musical. Phantom of the Opera will be in Tulsa this summer. Too cliché?
12. Memorize a book of the Bible. Or a chapter. Or just some more verses.
13. Win a raffle. It’s about time those kids let me cash in.
14. Boycott something. Suggestions? (Not meat.) (Or indoor plumbing.)
15. Send packages. I now know the fulfillment found in the glorious red, white, and blue USPS Priority Mail box. It even smells like America. Must share it.
16. Discover a rare ability that only manifests itself in one’s 24th year of life. Whistling! Please let it be whistling!
17. Drink more green tea.
18. Meet a dashing Frenchman who has somehow landed himself in Oklahoma…and who needs to learn English…and helps me with my French pronunciations of words like les fleurs and une soirée…and who can successfully wear a scarf in all weather.
19. Make my bed in the morning. Again, it’s about time.
20. Give it all away. But not like this.
21. Learn to change my own oil. Without actually changing it, as to not offend my father who must still feel needed in my big independent life.
22. Watch as much college football as possible to make up for its two-year absence in my life. Cross fingers for tickets to OU-Texas game.
23. Teach. I belong in the classroom; however the coming years of grad school make me a student by force. Must find a way to teach something.
24. Show. Don’t tell. It’ll mean a lot more.

Well, I suppose we should get on with it. The most logical place to start seems to be #1. And only 364 more days to get around to the others.
Amber