getting back

Three hours before my plane departs, we are on our way to the airport. There is no negotiating with my mom when it comes to leaving time.

In the car my mom looks at me and says, "I've never seen you with a better tan. It's even, and not too much."

I was certainly more careful than usual. And, I wasn't sitting in the sun as long either, as there was far less of it this vacation.

But my feet. Or more specifically, the top of my right foot. Swollen and burnt. Next time I'll extend my vigilance to my feet.

Before heading to the airport, we stop at Maison Villatte in downtown Falmouth. It's a great bakery, evidenced by its long customer lines. I buy a sandwich for later, a small blueberry muffin, a dessert that looks incredible, and a loaf of cranberry bread that is better than any I've found in NY.

My mom gets gas. And still, we are in Hyannis by 10:15; my plane leaves at 12:54.

So we stop at a Dollar Store. It's my first time in one, but it won't be my last.  I get an orange mango Blistex and two pairs of reading glasses for work. Total cost: $3.

We get to the airport in plenty of time. 

JFK is the busiest international gateway to North America. When I flew out of there last week, I breezed through security. Nothing beyond the usual. My shoes stayed on. My laptop remained covered. And my body was untouched. 

Barnstable Municipal Airport is no JFK. Neither is its check-in. 

Here, I have to remove my shoes.

Then take my computer out of its sleeve.

Then put everything in the plastic bins that go on the conveyer-belt thing.

Then walk under some scanner.

Then plant my feet in yellow painted shoe markers where something like an x-ray is made of my body. 

Then be patted down by a TSA female. Twice.

Then finally, be asked to stick out my hands, palms up. The TSA-person then uses some type of wand to run over my hands. When I ask her what she's doing she says, "I'm checking for remnants of explosives." She isn't smiling. 

Barnstable Municipal Airport is serious about its security. Not like the more relaxed measures taken at JFK.

The flight itself is fine. 

I take the airbus to subway home.

NY is sweltering; the worst kind of weather.

I get home. Unpack, and realize I had left my precious bag of food from Maison Villatte under my seat.

Guess I won't be having cranberry toast for breakfast.