Planes trains and au-to-mo-biles

For more than the past ten years I have always lived very close to major international airports. I am very used to seeing planes in the sky. As a kid I lived in a spot where planes flew way overhead on their way north to Canada or East to Europe. I used to pretend the fuel trails they left spelled my name. I’ve always been fascinated by the planes, the people on them, the destinations they are heading to. I remember lying on my back in my backyard, fresh cut grass all around me, but I’m still sinking into it and I’m looking up at the random planes flying overhead wondering when will I be big enough, grown up enough to be on one. When can I fly to Paris? To a tropical island – who will go with me? I used to go to sleep with various scenarios like this stuck in my head. I think my wanderlust started well before I knew what wanderlust is. I remember the days after 9/11 when there were no planes in the sky, it unnerved me. We were all already unnerved by that tragic day and having no planes flying overhead just made everything seem all the more strange to me. I see planes every single day. Planes in the sky equals peace to me. Whether it’s on my walks with Gert or on my drive to work. I can’t NOT see a plane. True to form, just like when I was little, I’m wishing I was on one. Always.

There is a truck in my neighborhood and it’s driving me freaking nuts. The thing is GINORMOUS. Not kidding this one truck is the size of at least 3 compact cars or 2 SUVs. It parks on the street. It takes up so much room. The tires are bigger than dog pool. There is no f-ing way anyone even the jolly green giant could get into this thing without some type of step or pull up. I have never seen the owner. This morning on my walk with Gert I wrote him the following note in my head: “Dear GiNormous Truck Owner – I had to leave you a note, because anyone with a truck this size has enlarged said truck in order to be noticed and I feel compelled to tell you that you have been noticed. My fascination has not so much to do with the actual size/mass of your truck, my fascination roots in why is this truck so big. Why such a GiNormous vehicle? Parked daily on a city street. What lives inside you and prompts this grossly oversized vehicle? I get the Porsche owner – uptight Ivy leaguer LOOK AT ME ASSHOLES parking his pretty car in his $40,000 italian tiled garage in RSF. I get the mom caravan driver – harried too many errands too many kids not enough time ever. I get the accountant who drives the white floor model accord that is 9 years old and still a good car. I will never get THE GiNORMOUS truck owner though. Especially on a city street. Yet you have been noticed.”

I have a very strong desire to take a train trip. A former colleague of mine told me about a short fun ride on the train from SD to San Juan Capistrano. Everything he described is so right up my alley. I’ve had this little trip in my head for a while. Why haven’t I taken it? Oh of course my usual excuse I don’t want to go alone. BUT I read a really good article this week and a line has stuck with me. GET THE FUCK OUT OF YOUR CUBLICLE AND START LIVING YOUR LIFE. I really want to do this, I want to embrace the life I live, I don’t want to hate on anything anymore. Wanting to take this train ride, waiting on finding ‘someone’ to go with me – fuck that. I’m going on my own.