My David
6am. Newark Airport. The morning after a terrorist threat.I walked into the main terminal and joined the security line, which consisted entirely of screaming babies, airport security personnel with way too much attitude and wastebaskets plumb full of various toiletries and beverages. Not exactly a relaxing start to my weekend trip to the Midwest. All I could think about was slipping into my window seat and falling asleep until the airplane wheels hit the tarmac in Minneapolis.
I made it to my plane 15 minutes before it was to leave, slipped into my seat and pulled out my iPod. Just then, an older man and woman sit down next to me. As I start to put my earbuds in, the woman begins to strike up a conversation. “Are you from Minnesota?” “Why are you going home?”
After she tells me I am a “good daughter” for going to see my parents, she launches into yet more probing questions: “How long have you lived in New York?” “Do you like it?” “What neighborhood do you live in?”
I couldn't help but feel like I was on trial. She then asked, “Where did you go to college?”
“University of Wisconsin,” I said politely.
She nodded with approval and said, “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in marketing.”
As she gave another nod, it was then that I realized who this woman was...
“My David is in marketing too. My David also went to Wisconsin, as you did, but probably is a few years older than you. I should have him call you.”
7:30am. Newark Airport. The morning that I was picked up by My David’s mother.
Is this actually happening? Am I being pimped out yet again, this time by a seemingly innocuous older woman who has just finished screening me for her beloved son?
Yes, Elle, cue your iPod...N-O-W.
Two hours later I woke up to a birds eye view of a city spotted with lakes and blanketed with deciduous trees. Just as my eyes adjusted, My David’s mother began asking me for suggestions on how to pass the time in Minneapolis. After a few choice recommendations, she pulls out her wallet and hands me her card while simultaneously requesting mine. I halfheartedly handed it to her.
The plane finally landed and I gave a small sigh of relief under my breath. As the woman got up and exited the plane, she called out behind her, “I’ll have My David call you!” As she walked off I could have sworn I saw her husband flash me an apologetic look that could only have meant, "she does this a lot."
The passengers behind me snickered and gave me "that look" as I sheepishly grabbed my bag. I then dragged my weary self off the plane and into the airport. I was home and could begin unwinding myself from a New York state of mind.
As I walked to meet my ride, I had a thought: For a single girl stuck on a morning flight, a terrorist threat is a lot less bothersome than a mother on a mission.
posted by Lisa @ 12:30 PM
6 Comments:
oh, come on, it's not that bad. at least you've gained a new blog character... "My David" ...out of the deal.
Count your blessings. At least you weren't on the plane with a baseball team from Staten Island and their girlfriends that looked like they walked out of a stereotype.
Or a truly fat person. Enjoy Wisconsin.... I'll be there in a week!
How funny... You'll have to let us know if My David calls...
Haha, I wish you and David the best;)
my future in-laws told their son to go up to my place of employment to meet me. he never did, but 3 years later we met, i was dubbed that girl, and we will married in 11 days! holy crap...
This entry reads like a combination of a classic Seinfeld episode and that episode of Sex and the City where all the mothers at Charlotte's synogogue try and set her up with their sons. Hilarious.
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