Certain moments make me feel the glow of adulthood—sitting at a mahogany desk while a mortgage broker rattles off numbers, tracing my finger across the black letters on a business card, “Shannon Gianotti, FNP-C”, and driving myself to DFW Airport last Saturday.
The night before my flight home, I still didn’t have plans for getting to the airport. I’ld procrastinated on that part of the trip, because…well…nobody really wants to drive to the airport at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday. And, it’s been spring in Dallas, which—as my friend Dan likes to say—“is the two weeks of the year when Texas actually feels like Heaven.”
“Travellers” by chiaralilly (licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0, modified by Shannon Gianotti)
So, between cranking out a twenty-page research paper for BE102 and writing a pitch for my latest article—I watered my cilantro plants, reacquainted myself with the pool, and neglected fishing around for a ride. By Friday night I was cornered into doing something I’ve never done before, something that (in my mind) only business people do—finding long-term parking near the airport.
Considering my travelog, airport parking shouldn’t be a big deal. I’ve eaten rice by hand in a bedouin tent near the Syrian border, hiked solo in the mountains of Korea, and spent a layover in Hong Kong sleeping under the seats in the terminal.
