It’s never easy. The night before, I feel myself overwhelmed with sadness. It’s not that I hate my life at home. It’s just that it’s so nice to be away from work and other the monotonous details of life.
I stayed in Miami for a week. Should I be complaining that I have to return home after being gone for a week? Absolutely not.
In preparation of returning to my life, I involuntary thrust myself into the anxiety I usually try to avoid in my daily life. My immediate concerns last night. Making sure I packed the few random items in my car: straw hat, sarong and tennis shoes (actually ended up wearing them). Getting to the airport on time. Despite the Miami airport being next door, I flew into Fort Lauderdale’s. I’m serious about the proximity of the Miami airport. They literally could probably see me turning in bed wondering when the last flight was arriving or departing.
I flew into Fort Lauderdale because, it just seems that it would be cheaper. Not to mention, I love flying Southwest. As I told her girlfriend a few months back, “I became their bitch with 2 free bags.” I’m dead serious. I dread going to destinations where Southwest doesn’t don’t fly. My anxiety stems from the fact that Fort Lauderdale is about 20 or 30 miles from Miami. On a bad day, that can take an hour. I scheduled to return my rental car at 9:30 and I was paranoid about rush hour. I got out early and didn’t hit any ridiculous traffic.
So Miami is the opposite of the rest of the world. Despite 8:00 a.m. being a rush hour for most cities, they just barely getting it cranking. Go somewhere around 10:00 a.m., you’ll be sitting somewhere stuck in traffic. Granted, it could be other tourists, I just don’t think so.
My other concerns, finding a gas station to top off my tank. Finding a McDonald’s to get an Egg McMuffin (hold the Canadian bacon, please.) Found the gas, no Egg McMuffin. I settled for 2 glazed donuts at Dunkin Donuts. I’m underwhelmed and the other options where pretty crappy. I didn’t expect much from an airport that doesn’t have the scanner where they can see the outline of your private parts.
It’s all good. I’ll return. I was smart and typed my parking aisle in my phone. So it shouldn’t take me 45 minutes to find my car.
Until the next vacation, which will be a weekend with my mom in either Myrtle Beach (yuck), Charleston (gorgeous but very entrenched in its roots in slavery), New Orleans (my mom doesn’t want to fly) and Orlando (I don’t like any of the attractions there, so I’ll pass)…
Doesn’t sound like we’re going anywhere, right???