Stepped up security at airports after 9/11 is perhaps the only ripple in that pond that to some degree has worked in my favor. Now that only passengers can pass through security, at least I'm not the only one whose running start from seat 22 C up the connecting ramp to bombard* a long distance boyfriend who in fact is NOT waiting just outside the gate for me would be 100% futile and OK a bit deranged.
Still, I will not be so selfish as to suggest that the fact that loved ones can no longer wait just outside the gate of an arriving plane is a good thing. In fact, while 9/11 destroyed many things, I think one of its greatest tragedies is that it tore down this last bastion of American romance. Sadly, running-start reunions replete with butterflies in the stomach have gone the way of all those other lovely things archived in black and white movies: kissing in a telephone booth during a rainstorm, drive-ins, handwritten love letters, and parking.**
*a la Ali style in The Karate Kid when Danny LaRusso crane kicks Johnny was when I first witnessed this amazingly melodramatic technique. Twenty five years later, running and almost knocking over a man I love is STILL my favorite way to show affection, whether he has just blasted a Cobra Kai or not.
**I mean, I think most women today would agree that if a date were to take us in his car alone to a secluded place by a lake late at night only one logical conclusion could be drawn: some Ted Bundy wannabe just bought us dinner, and great we ordered the salad and herbal tea for dessert. HAD WE KNOWN, Mr. Serial Killer, that it was going to be our last meal, we sooooo would have ordered the freaking pommes frites and cheesecake thank you very much.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
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