As people were leaving for the evening, the older gentleman to my left said, “Good luck! Do your best!” The gentleman’s words vibrated with me, as this is exactly what my dad always says to me. My body was one large internal smile.
As I drove out of Santa Fe, Carnell would text me to say he booked a room for me at the Hyatt, downtown Albuquerque. I have always wanted to stay there, I would say to him. How lucky and special was that? The view of the Sandia Mountains the next morning was gorgeous. A wonderful imprint on my memory.
The next day, one might say I also had a bit of rough send off. I left the hotel to arrive promptly at 9 am to the barber shop. Unfortunately, I had to wait. And wait. I arrived back at the hotel with minutes to get ready and it was not at all how I pictured my last morning in the 505. I wanted to wear certain jeans and a certain shirt but those certain jeans were at the bottom of my bag and the certain shirt was not clean. I had planned on doing some laundry the night before I left and stuff my black duffle bag with as much clothes as possible. That would not be the case.
Dearest Aaron B., would drop me off at the airport. And, as I flustered to get my belongings and say good bye to Aaron, I would walk into the airport terminal, check in and realize my phone was still in the car. Of course, I have no phone numbers memorized and my lap top was dead. I made my way to find a chair and wall socket, scrambled to open my lap top bag only to have two empty mini apple vodka bottles drop out as airport security walked by. Quickly, I managed to get the two bottles before they rolled any further on the floor. These two mini vodka bottles were from a few days ago, when I had what felt like a long day. Trust me. Anyway, I waited in the airport hoping and praying Aaron would snap and realize he was probably listening to two songs that repeated over and over. Evidently that was not the case. I was hoping he would run down the terminal to find me going through security as he waived with dramatic hand gestures mouthing, “I GOT YOUR PHONE!” That would not be the case. When I did manage to plug my lap top in and send him a Facebook message, he messaged me back he was already home. I heard my name being called over the airport intercom that my American Airlines flight was leaving. It was my last call. I would board my flight to New York City without a phone, without my NYC friends number, without anyones number, in jeans I did not want to wear in a shirt that made me feel frumpy. But, I was beyond excited and nervous. NYC, here I come. But first, an hour layover in Dallas.