(un)Glamorous Adventures in Adulthood

smgianotti@me.com  —  May 12, 2015

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.”

 Rsz chiaralilly

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. 

Still, for some reason, driving myself to the airport felt like a reason to celebrate my adulthood—thirty-three, classy, and paying for airport parking. 

 

But, then, I arrived at the DFW Airport & Conference Center. I parked Jed between two other cars and entered the hotel to pay.  A women greeted me from behind what looked like a concession stand on the Jersey boardwalk. While she hunted for my reservation I perused the foyer. A clump of trees filled one side of the room. Their trunks were wrapped in multi-colored lightbulbs and a trash receptacle—the type you find at McDonald’s with “Thank You” painted on the swinging panel—stood guard in front. On the other side of the room stood a statue of a girl surrounded by armchairs. She was holding a teetering pile of book and an enormous poster of the Eiffel tower hung behind her on the wall. 

 

I signed my name, rolled my luggage to the curb, and looked for somewhere to sit. A plant container looked sturdy enough, so I headed that direction. As I got closer, a mash-up of flowers in the pot caught my attention. Mini carnations, in oranges, pinks, and purples, tumbled in every direction, revealing their plastic stems.

 

Adulthood isn’t always as glamorous as it seems.

One response to (un)Glamorous Adventures in Adulthood

  1. I remember the first time I parked my car for the weekend at the airport, I totally relate to what you’re saying! I felt very grown up 🙂