Airports, airplanes, and flying always put me in a nostalgic, sentimental sort of mood, in a way that few other things can. I never really knew why, but it’s something I’ve always loved. I love the cramped, noisy metal tubes, I love the layovers, I love walking through airports to find my gate.
Today, I spent the earliest part of the morning at gate C1 of McCarran Airport. At 5:25, I boarded the cramped metal tube, and we took off shortly after, in that soft pre-dawn light that bathes everything in a sweet blue, and raced toward the sun.
Once I get to my destination, I’ll have a short layover, and board another flight that will take me the rest of the way to the man I’ve been waiting to see for months.
Quite a few readers have noticed that I often reference owning three boys, but only refer to two by name. Quite a few readers have asked asked about the mysterious third boy, and why he’s been kept off the blog.
We all love a good mystery.
Most have assumed that he is Sissy, but no, that’s not the case. Sissy had some personal shit go down, that would mess with anyone pretty badly, and when he pulled away, I gave him his space. I’m of course open to talking to him again, should he reach out. He knows that I’m there for him, if he needs support, or someone to talk to. But he’s an Aquarius, and if he’s anything like me, he wants to be left the fuck alone.
So no, Sissy is not the third.
We’ll call the third Steel, and due to family and personal circumstances, we are temporarily separated by a distance large enough to warrant a plane ride. He’s got responsibilities that are keeping him farther from me than I’d like him to be. But we make the most of it, and Kazander was sweet enough to give me a trip out to see him as an early Christmas present.
So I’m spending the day at airports and on planes, some of my favorite places in the world. And don’t get me wrong. I love Kazander, and I love my kid, and I loved the last two flights I took with one or the other. But there’s just something so quiet about traveling alone. About being alone in a crowded room, surrounded by people, standing back and watching them.
It’s about seeing people hug goodbye at the security line, watching family members wave to their relatives. It’s about listening to people talk about their vacation, and how much fun they had in Vegas, but how they’re ready to go home. It’s about seeing hundreds of people sitting quietly at the terminals, reading or talking or working on their laptops to pass the time.
I even love the turbulence. Our descent is expected to be quite turbulent, and I’m looking forward to it. That sinking feeling in your stomach, the little rush of adrenaline, the unpredictable rocking of the plane, it’s all just awesome.
And I know that every minute that passes brings me about six miles closer to Steel. I’m going to be able to spend the weekend with him, using him hard to make up for the time we had to spend apart, and the time we’ll have to spend apart after I leave. As of now, there’s no way of knowing how much longer this separation will have to last.
I intend to make the most of the time we’ll have together. And his nervousness is adorable.
I had to promise not to completely devour him when he picks me up at the airport. Last time we were together, we got hungry and decided to drive to get some food, after a pretty long, intense session. He didn’t realize until after we were already on the busy road that his head was not in the right space for driving. So when we meet at the airport, I need to hold back, to resist the urge to claim him, until we get to the hotel (and we’re stopping to grab dinner on the way to the hotel, so the holding-back thing may get a little difficult). But I can’t do or say anything to fuck with his head until I know that he won’t have to drive for awhile. So that’ll be a test of my willpower.
But then, oh it’s on. His skinny ass is mine, and I’ve got to make up for lost time.
Oh, in the meantime… Here’s a funny conversation that happened between me and the passenger sitting next to me, a man who could be Shaquille O’Neal’s only-slightly-smaller brother, who was obviously freaking out during out descent.
Me: Not a fan of flying?
Shaq’s look-a-like: Of being shoved in a big metal box and thrown 700 miles? No, not really.
Me: Well, the good news is we’re low enough now that if we crash, we probably won’t die.
Shaq: *pause* Yeah, see that’s not helping.
I don’t get it. I said we probably won’t die. That’s being super-helpful.