Wait! I'm still not out of the country...

(9:07 a.m. in-flight journal to Houston for Full day lay-over)

It is my understanding that the comic relief in a story is to come sometime after the first chapter. First there is the character introductions, then story development, perhaps dramatic climax, and then room in the story line for the main character to be the joke; something to compel you to their humanity and allow for a break in climactic build-up. Whatever the joke, it comes later in the story; never do we begin our tale with the heroine being the subject of hilarity.

I think my itinerary missed that bit of logistical outlining on comic relief (yes that was me labeling myself as the heroine—it is after all my story—and I feel deserving of such titles at this pointJ).

Beyond surreal notions of world travel—the idea that I will be in another country only a day from now--I firmly and anxiously announce “Italia or Bust!”

After an easy check in I boarded my continental flight to Houston to find that it was much to my great pleasure less than half full. Certainly not the Southwest Airlines open-boarding over booked flight I was accustomed to. Better yet, my Mother being the seasoned traveler she is and fellow member of the “itty-bitty-bladder-committee” smartly booked us both aisle seats directly across from one-another. It was only a matter of time before we were absorbed in our own distractions anyway. We would have two weeks to converse in small restaurants and on city benches. I was just anxious to get seated and scope out how I would entertain myself for the next two hours of free time.

I took my aisle seat across from my Mom. It placed me a seat away from an older “middle aged woman” and with a smile and a nod and thankful for the empty seat between us I slid my bag under my feet and buckled up. I have a tendency to become overwhelmed by confined spaces and was grateful for an excuse to not worry about it.

My new neighbor was clearly a gentle caring person as she smiled nervously across the empty seat at me. To her own discomfort (I’m sure) she appeared fit to fill her own small seat rather snuggling. I naturally fixed my best, “how are you,” “here we go,” “nice to meet you,” general good person smile and settled into my seat. Before I knew it and before the plane had even left the ground, I was elbowed bluntly with a small and childlike grunt by this older and clearly non-English-speaking lady. She was moving herself to the center seat and wanted my help in strapping the seat belt over her lap. Placing the clasp in my right hand she motioned that it would not extend around her waist.

Imagine if you will the amusement to be had of watching me struggle with my arms wrapped around her waste untangling and un-tucking various straps, metal devices designed for the simplest of applications made unreasonably complicated by two pairs of hands around her rather unyielding and overly furnished mid-section; Her many jackets and items of clothing and bags, her Beauty and the Best Sleeping bag making the task all the more complex. I smiled and glanced back at my Mother whose head was bobbing up and down between feet and seat getting settled. Ha! What help she was! What little sympathy I would receive for having given up the right side of my seat to a large elbow—she was oblivious to my discomforts bending and twisting about in her own airy arrangements. Deep sigh…it was going to be a long flight. I could elaborate on the rather anxious businessman in front of me who bounced around in his seat rattling my coffee on the attached tray while he cackled…yes cackled at just about everything his business companion was saying—but that would go above and beyond the one cup of coffee I have had this morning.

Fortunately I have made my way across the aisle by now and ironically placed myself in the center seat next to my Mom—subconscious revenge or perhaps I’m just happy to see her. I secured my bag from under my seat; feeling a bit guilty as I motioned from the older woman to my Mother, mouthing “My Momma!” with a smile sliding across the aisle—she smiled back as if she understood and my Mother moved aside for me to slip in. Its amazing that I ride booked flights every few months in simple comfort and my one trip on a half-full journey and I find the accommodations slightly less comfortable. Well, all worked out in the end and alas my enthusiasm is not swayed in the least!

A shout out to my second cup of coffee, the delicious Apple Spice Muffin on the tray next to me, a little bit of Jazz, and headphones from a friend…things may be looking up, but Italy is definitely looking more appealing!

More later (I have six more hours in a Texas airport with my Mother before our flight to Italy)!