After locating my gate, I ambled down to find a coffee place and got a latte and a scone. The latte had a hole in the cup, and unbeknownst to me, the first sip sent coffee down the front of my shirt and all over my carry on. Frankly, it was just too much work to get back to the coffee shop with a carry on, a cup of coffee, a purse, and a cane, and I dumped the $8 worth in the nearest bin and then went to change shirts. Fortunately, I had another tank that also matched the skirt I am wearing, so at least I am not looking like a bag lady.
This flight to Atlanta is full. The gentleman next to me, who is also using a cane and thus struck up a camaraderie as my new best friend, is on his way to Italy. He has a cigarette (unlit) in his mouth--has to be ready for the smoking room when he lands in Atlanta. He hopes he has time before his flight to Italy. This guy does not seem like the kind of guy who would be going to Italy; he seems more like the kind of guy who would be riding one of the motorcycles (in a caravan of a couple of hundred) as we reached the metroplex.
Then there is the lady in the wheelchair in front of me, who has her little doggie in a baby carrier suspended around her neck. She has to keep her hands free for her cane--which is a lovely blue and purple--I should ask where she got it. I have been thinking of training Libby as my service dog--she loves to carry things around in her mouth. Perhaps I could train her to take the items from my hand to the security roller when I check in at the airport.
I wonder if she would have to go through the x-ray machine, or if she could just go through the gate with me? :)