In transit.

Today started off kind of rocky.  My flight was scheduled for 12:10.  Boarding was supposed to start at 11:10AM.  We got there around 9:45.  Had to wait in line for AN HOUR to drop my bags off.  Luckily Scott was with me.  I was a little nervous when we finally got to the ticket counter.  I knew my bags were a gamble.  The first one weighed in at 22kg.  Right on the money!  But my extra bag was 34kg (they won't accept anything over 32kg) and my carry-on was 14.5 (it's supposed to be 10kg).  I played the but-I'm-moving-home-and-I'm-really-stressed card to see if the lady at the desk would give me a break.  She didn't.  Instead, she said, "You're going to have to repack these pay for two overweight bags.  There's nothing else you can do."  So Scott helped me repack all three bags.  At first, we over-corrected.  But when we finally put the bags back on the scale, they weighed 9.5kg, 31.4kg, and 29.6kg!!!  Phew!  She said I won the award for having the heaviest bag on the plane.  I asked it that meant I didn't have to pay for it.  She didn't think that was very funny. 

Since check-in and bag-drop took so long, the plane left about an hour late.  I suggest you never fly Air Canada Rouge.  They have no in-flight entertainment.  Unless you bring your own iPad or laptop.  But the selection wasn't worth the effort.  So I slept.  And sudoku-ed.  Half the toilets were out of order.  I was sitting right next to one of the working ones.  Lucky me.

Toronto has half automated passport control and pre-clearance for the USA.  Everyone was confused.  And freaking out that they were going to miss their connection.  I had a 5 hour layover, so at least I could be calm and confused, which was a much better alternative  I also had the pleasure of dealing with Chatty Immigration Officer.  We're had the following (slightly befuddling) conversation...

CIO: Where are you going?
Me: Dallas.
CIO: Dallas Texas!
Me: That's right.
CIO:Where are you coming from?
Me: Dublin.
CIO: Dublin Ireland!
Me: Right again.
CIO: Were you there for pleasure?
Me: I was living there.  I'm moving home now.
CIO: Dallas is better.
Me: What do you mean?
CIO: DALLAS IS BETTER!
Me: You mean a better place to live?
CIO: Yeah.  Better than Dublin.
Me: I don't know.  It's really hot in Dallas.  I think I might melt when I get off the plane.
CIO: No you won't.  You're not chocolate.  You're not going to melt.
Me: Yeah, ok.  I guess you're right.
CIO: You been doing henna or something?
Me: Excuse me?
CIO: Your arm... you been doing henna?
Me: Uh, yes.  That's henna.  A friend gave me a farewell-henna last night.
CIO: Cool.  Welcome home.  NEXT!

I took my passport and walked off.  I'm still not exactly sure how one does henna.  But at least I know I won't melt in Dallas, no matter how hot it feels.  It's a good thing I'm not chocolate.

So now I'm chilling at F66.  In-transit.  Gone but not home.  No longer there but not yet here.  The goodbyes have been said, but the hellos are still waiting.  I think my heart needed this transition, this layover between my past and my future, between the sadness and the excitement.  I think I'll keep staring out the window and let my mind take a break for a little while.