Flying Home

I'm flying back home to North Carolina today to stay for the next two weeks.  My brilliant younger sister Molly is graduating from high school and because I miss most of her big life events, it was mandatory that I attend this one.

I'm flying out of Durango, to Denver, to Chicago, and finally to Charlotte at midnight.  Since Charlotte's still two hours away from home, Mom is coming in the morning to drive my butt back to Asheville.  She wanted me to get a hotel room for the night, but I'm stubborn and would rather spend what money I saved for this trip from my tax refund on say, a hair cut instead of a hotel room.  So I'll be spending the night in the airport--an excellent way to save money on accommodations only if you're a glutton for the most uncomfortable sleep you've ever experienced or again, you're just plain stubborn.

The promise of a night's stay in the airport makes the inevitable flight delays much more tolerable because I'm not chomping at the bit to have already arrived somewhere else; I'm perfectly content to hang out in the Durango terminal reading my sexy vampire book as I would be in Charlotte doing the same thing for the next 12 hours.  The only thing against being stuck in the tiny Durango airport for another 3 hours is that they don't have any magazines for purchase.  That's one of the few remaining joys of airplane travel=the plethora of glossy magazines.  The little old lady in charge of the gift shop filled with blankets, stained glass, mugs, and fake deer antlers said that they simply don't deliver magazines anymore.  Makes me want to pull some sort of Bear Grease stunt on the magazine delivery truck.