It Takes a Toll

Everything was on time.  We had the extra leg room exit row seats on all four legs of the trip. All the flight attendants were delightful.  There was no turbulence.  The passengers next to me were small, masked, and silent.   

The walk from the airport parking garage to the gate was long. I haven't taken a long walk since Pandemica began.  This was a hell of a way to begin again.  

We trekked through mini-sized Tucson International Airport (you can go direct to Mexico) and from the very end of the outlying E Concourse at Dallas/Fort Worth's contribution to mega-projects to somewhere in the middle of DFW's D Concourse.  The monorail doesn't touch the E Concourse; there are escalators up and down at the end of the 2 sets of moving walkways after turning corner after corner after corner on foot and by the time the gate was in sight I was done.

Have I mentioned that I haven't taken a long walk in quite a while?  I am really out of practice.  

I have everything I need in a closet in Indiana, so I travel there with a big purse filled with cords and chargers and crossword puzzles and a giant cashmere shawl.  It didn't seem that heavy at home.  By the time I arrived at the gates it felt like I was toting a collection of bowling balls. 

Wearing a mask isn't that onerous if you're sitting still.  Exercising (and those walks were exercise) is another thing, entirely.  I was unbothered on the airplane; I barely survived the walks.  Breathing my own exhaust, the mask getting sweatier by the step, my bag getting heavier, my hip announcing its presence with authority - it was unpleasant.

And now we are home, at altitude, drinking water constantly, napping briefly, eating copiously, and feeling every cell in our bodies rebelling. 

We had a marvelous long weekend.  I wish it didn't take such a toll to get there.