Florida to Idaho

So after a week full of finals (culminating in a 3.5 hr Latin test that sucked out every last bit of brain I possessed) and a 10-11 hour overnight journey across the country, I am finally home.

I'd just like to take this time to thank a few people along the way.

Dear Hispanic, High-School Soccer Player,

I’m sorry for so assertively cutting in front of you as we were all lining up to board. I thought about letting you go ahead of me, but I really wanted to get on the plane first so I could claim a space in the overhead bin. I have a history with overhead bins. I didn’t realize that you were going to be so kind as to offer to help me with my bag before I even attempted it myself. Thanks also for being one of the few guys to sit behind me and not kick my seat or stretch out your legs so far they hit the backs of my ankle.

Dear Older Man who Has a Short Wife,

The fact that you helped me with my suitcase because you would have wanted someone to help your equally short wife made me smile. You must have noticed when High School Hispanic Soccer Player helped with my suitcase, because at the end of the flight you stepped into the aisle (I presumed to get your own stuff) and said "Yours was the purple one, if I recall," and let me off first.

Dear Shaggy Indie Kid with Skinny Jeans,

Thanks for laughing at me when I tried to turn my overhead light on, but realized that I couldn't reach it without unbuckling and standing up. I thought it was pretty funny, too.

Dear Man in the Air Force,

Thanks for accepting the stewardess's offer to move up to first class, so that I could scoot over a seat and not have to sit directly next to Shaggy Indie Kid with Skinny Jeans. No offense, Shaggy Indy kid, but I’m not going to sit next to you for 2+ hours unless I have to.

Dear Honeymooning Couple,

Thanks for taking a red-eye flight, ensuring that the person next to you would most likely be sleeping and thus wouldn’t be subjected to your massively public displays of ardent affection. To the new bride, I’m glad you’re happy, and the ring is pretty. I also feel like you should be told that your new husband looks just like Mr. Incredible from the nose down. Maybe y'all could do a Mr. Incredible/Elastigirl couple's costume for Halloween next year.

Dear Large Awkward-Looking Young Man who Looked an Awful Lot Like the Birkenstock-wearing Weirdo I Once Sat Next to who Kept Dropping Cashews on my Thigh and Trying to Retrieve Them,

Thanks for not eating cashews, dropping them on me, or trying to retrieve them. Thanks also for making small talk with me at the beginning of the flight, but then letting me sleep the rest of the way. Thank you also for apologizing about poking me to wake me up to inform me that I needed to close my tray table. I don't like being poked by strangers, but the fact that the stewardess put you up to it combined with the fact that you apologized makes it okay. Also, good luck with your niece at DisneyWorld. I have a feeling she’s going to be the biggest brat in the happiest place on earth. I base this assumption on the fact that she is currently a brat and the chances of her turning into Shirley Temple by the time we de-plane are very slim.

Dear Kid who Shouted “Mayday, Mayday, We’re Going Down” Everytime We Experienced Turbulence,

You woke me up, but you made me laugh, so it’s all good.

Dear Continential Airlines,

Thanks for the full can of soda…but the cookie? I’ve seen postage stamps bigger than that.

Dear TSA Official,

Thanks for feeling as awkward touching me as I was feeling being touched by you. That must have been your first time. Good job getting all the steps right—and your little speech beforehand was very well memorized. I could tell that your boss was proud of you, even if she did keep reminding you of all the steps. Also, thanks for not finding a bomb in the waistband of my jeans.

Dear Phoenix Airport,

You are stupid. If people are going to have to switch terminals to catch their connections, you should probably look into installing a tram system between the terminals. It really isn’t efficient to have to exit the airport, wait around for a bus, and then go through the whole rigmarole of security AGAIN. On the other hand, thanks for not having a body scanner installer yet. I was really stoked that I only had to have my personal space invaded once that day.

Dear Outgoing Blonde and Friendly Asian Man and Sympathetic Bald Guy,

Thanks for joining in my rant against the Phoenix airport. I hope you all made it to Atlanta.

Dear United Airlines Flight 3766,

Thanks for NOT singing Jingle Bells all together just like the stewardess suggested. 6:30 in the morning is really not the time for such tomfoolery. Especially when it feels like 3:30 in the morning for me.

You may have noticed that most of my thank-yous had to do with bags and overhead bins. There is a reason for this. Typically, the scene goes like this. Tara can barely reach overhead bin. Tara struggles and almost drops bag on nearby sleeping passenger’s head. Tara sets bag down. Tara tries to see if there is already a bag in that overhead bin. Tara can’t see. Tara tries to make her best helpless woman face to see if someone will respond. Tara is left alone, while her helpless woman face fades and is replaced by her angry woman face. Tara asks stewardess to help. Tara is rejected by stewardess for legal reasons. Tara loudly asks the stewardess how in the world Tara is supposed to get her bag up, if she’s too short and nobody will help. The last spark of chivalry in some man’s heart is fanned into flame—or perhaps he’s just afraid Tara will drop the bag on his head—and Tara’s bag finally makes it into aforementioned overhead bin.

That whole scenario actually happened once…I’m pretty sure that that airplane just had really high overhead bins, because I’ve never had that much trouble.

And if you think I'm overreacting, then perhaps you just don't understand that it's harder to do when you're my size. If YOU were 5'2 and weighed...well...if you were me, you'd understand!