Flying off

"Say something funny, Andrew,” my mom said. “CJ came all this way to see you to the airport, you can’t leave without making her laugh.”

“Funny how?” I replied, quoting one of our favorite TV shows.

“I knew you would say that!” My sister smiled as she burst out in triumph.

I suppose that my jokes have been getting predictable recently. It seems that more and more my little sister is able to know what I will say ahead of time, and what tone of voice I will use. Sometimes she even seems to know what I am going to say before I say it.

We eventually arrived at the airport and my mother went to park the car while my sister came to help me check in. It was a good thing too, since she helped me figure out how to use the machine. I approached an unused machine. It stared at me with nothing but a blank. A blank with which I was to fill the requisite information. I began slowly, meticulously typing the word "Philadelphia," the place where I would board the plane to Rome and leave behind the United States and everything that was familiar.

“Andrew,” CJ said, “you're supposed to type your name.”

I slowly, meticulously, laboriously pressed backspace 7 or 8 times. (Why does Philadelphia have to be so long!) With that embarrassing mistake taken care of, I promptly proceeded to misspell my last name… and push enter.

CJ had to show me how to restart.

I eventually managed to check in, and my mother soon joined us to say our final farewells. They walked me as far as they could and left me in the line for airport security. It was a rather long line, but rather than simply leave the airport as I crept my way through security, they apparently decided that they wanted to watch my slow progress through an uneventful line. So they stayed and watched from the balcony above. Seeing them standing there I did what anyone else would do. I waved. And they waved back. Fifteen seconds later they were still there, so I waved. They waved back. We performed the ritual every few steps. I waved they waved back. Take 5 steps. I waved they waved back. Five more steps. Sometimes we would shake things up a bit and they would wave to me first. It was rapidly becoming apparent that our communication was limited to waving.

I soon noticed my mother was playing with a small shiny object which I suspected was a camera. This made me think about how nice it would be to have a final picture for my blog. So I took out my camera and as I rounded the final bend I turned back to take a quick picture.  I suppose that my little sister must have thought this situation rather funny, for I soon heard the faded sound of her distant laughter.  And so I left.

(CJ told me how to post this picture)