It was a perfectly smooth travel experience except for the screaming baby who quieted for a minute or two only to start howling again. I was greeted at Bradley by a TSA person who looked at my license and boarding pass and directed me off to the side. A second person checked the license with a pen light and scribbled on my pass then sent me to an empty line. The guy said, “Have you ever been through pre-screening before?” I said no. He said, “Just put your things in the basket – leave your coat on, leave your shoes on. You don’t have to remove your computer or your toiletries.” I took off my bracelets and stepped through the metal detector, which buzzed, maybe because of the zipper on my jacket or maybe because of the silver tassels on my shoes.
TSA Guy said, “Hold out your hands.” He waved a wand over them twice and said, “I just have to check something on the computer. You can collect your stuff.” And I was done. Lavazza allowed me to by-pass D&D, where there was a huge line and not great brew. An aisle seat in row 5 satisfied my requirements to be close to the front and able to stick my legs out beyond that nasty bar. The guy in the window seat scarfed down his Micky D’s and fell asleep. The plane was not full, and it didn’t look like any of the middle seats were occupied. As the baby in the front seat began screaming a woman sitting across from me in row 3 fled to the back of the plane.
I could feel my heart pounding as soon as I started walking through DIA. It may have been palpitations because the mayor of Denver greeted everyone on the loudspeaker by telling us to root for the Broncos for the game on Sunday. Every single TV station had segment after segment on their broadcasts Saturday and Sunday. Insult to injury, the Monday Post had an entire section devoted to the game. That’s on top of a regular sports section. I did not realize that Colorado worshiped Great God Football the way Texas does.
Having learned my lesson, I was guzzling water during the flight and throughout my stay. It wasn’t enough because my contact lenses felt like two little pieces of sandpaper until I landed in Hartford. It may have also been the change in solution as the idiots at Bausch & Lomb don’t sell travel size solution or provide it to eye doctors any more. Can’t you people drop the bottle from 3.5 to 3 so I can take it with the carry on? If the Care solution I bought works out in humid little Connecticut, I’ll be switching brands.
Anna collected me, and we went to the grocery store where we bought stuff for me to make the broc and pasta dish on Sunday. At her pretty new condo, we looked at her pictures from Puerta Vallarta. Everything is gorgeous, well except for Liz Taylor’s ruin of a house but a little too full of jungle for me.
We had fabulous Osmanthus tea from Peet’s, a gift of our cousins Ash and Kathryn. Then we made our way to Ana’s, a Mexican restaurant, where we met her friend, Andres. Excellent food, much lighter than I expected. He knows the owner well so we had extras, solicitous service, and an altogether gracious experience.