Of course he is taller than me...

I spent a couple hours knitting at the airport last night. Well, not knitting the whole time, and part of that time frame was the driving, but it was a longer than expected trip as ones to the airport often are.

I left work at three full of anticipation for seeing my youngest, now 16, who did not make it here this summer, so xmas last year was the last I saw of him. His flight was due in at 509 and the airport, on a good day, is about 40 minutes away, so really, I had allowed plenty of time and I would rather sit and knit and be early, than have him have to wait on me as he does enough waiting on his sorryassmotherfucker of a father.

The two minute drive from the mall to the beltway onramp took 37 minutes. Can anyone say fucking holiday traffic sucks? Once I hit the beltway, which I thought would be the worst of the traffic, it was a straight shot through at about 70 miles an hour pausing just for three toll plazas which were not at all backed up. The biggest toll plaza has been modified since my last use of Beltway 8 and is decidedly more EZ Tag friendly and one of these days I must get a round to getting one of those. I arrived at the air port at about 430 and figured by the time I checked the momnitors, I would have little time to knit.

The 509 flight was delayed and was scheduled for 545. Not too bad. I sat down in baggage claim because it was quiet and that is where there were seats. This is a small airport. Why don't they get that people who need to meet someone inside might want to sit? There is plenty of seating at the gate and for ticketed passengers, that is just lovely. With the new security measures, ok, not so new, that is of no help. There were easily 50 people hanging around the security checkpoint at the end of the concourse where my boy would be coming from. The baggage area is just around the corner and down the escalator from there and there is new seating down there. Airport planning and management is on crack.

So I sat down in the peaceful but cold airport baggage area and knit. I was up at 5 to work at 7, so the knitting also made me need to rest my eyes. Just for a minute. Really. I did actually get some knitting done. At 545, I went and checked the monitor and the flight had scrolled off so it had arrived. I went upstairs and waited for my boy. I was figuring 6 ft tall by now and watching all the people streaming through.

There was a young black boy of a bout 5 wearing a cute little leather bomber jacket, a look that took me back, but, no, not my boy. There were many young men who could have fit the bill, most of them older, a few in suits, but none of them mine.

At 610 I called my boy. I figured if he was here, his phone would be back on and maybe I missed him, so even though missing him was not really possible I asked:

Me: Where are you?
C: Atlanta.
Me: Excuse me?There was a delay.
pause in a WTF sort of way
Me: Liar.
C: AAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA..gotcha. I am at the gate not off the plane yet.
Me: Okay see you soon, love you.
C: Muah.

That little fucker did not miss a beat in this conversation. When he walked through the gate and hugged me, his bony little self was crushing me. He misses his mamaa so. I am sure I will be ready to strangle him in short order. Oh wait, he used all the minutes last month and then had $500+ in cell charges. I am already ready to strangle him.

Off to work.