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Mad Dash without Anger

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Mad Dash without Anger

I call Scotty, and he’s two minutes away. I stand by the door poised to run with tickets in hand.

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Justin is rad.  He’s a personal trainer out of Sugarhouse (if anyone is interested let me know.  He really is wonderful.)  He had a client in an hour and took the time to take us to the airport.  Having not slept very much the previous couple days Scotty and I throw our things, and ourselves into his red jeep.  We set tentative plans to make sushi with him and his lady Liz when we get back.  We find ourselves at the airport in good spirits, ready for our next adventure.

Scotty doesn’t have his diver’s license.  But Scotty always has his license!  We retrace our steps, it’s not on the ground.  Justin is called.  It’s not in his jeep.  Scotty’s house is ten minutes away from the Salt Lake Airport.  Justin turns around and picks Scotty up.  Scotty searches his newly cleaned house (Why does that always make things harder to find?) It’s not there.  In a pocket of the backpack he just took back from backpacking his driver’s license hides under his fishing license.  He’s jumps back in the jeep.

A few years ago this situation would bring me great stress, even anger.  These days things are quite different.  I attribute a lot of this to Emotional Release Facilitating.  I decide to enjoy myself.  I can’t do anything to change the current situation, so why be nervous and worried?  I observe a Middle Eastern Muslim family watch their young daughters and granddaughters scamper around the ticket counter.  They are relaxed, wearing hijabs in bright variable colors.  Joking with each other, they are the perfect picture of a happy family.  I give them a smile as they remind me of the wonderful Muslims we spent time with in Malaysia the year before.  We loved them.  I chuckle to myself as I think of the mad dash to the airport that is happening just a few miles away.  I call Scotty, and he’s two minutes away.  I stand by the door poised to run with tickets in hand.

He dashes through the door, with me pushing to keep up.  We run together up the escalator, to security.  They scan my camera bag a couple times with extra diligence, then the race is back on.  We get to our gate and walk directly on the plane.  We giggle like children.  We barely made it.  A few years ago this same situation out have made me negative for hours.  I’d have been mad, stressed or frustrated, and likely short tempered with Scotty.  But this time, I didn’t have a moment of negativity.  It seems a small thing to choose not to be grumpy.  Scotty looks at me.  I am out of breath, slightly crazy haired and all smiles.  He smiles back.  Our trip starts on a fun, albiet rather ridiculous way.  Right now he is happy, and if I had acted differently, he wouldn’t be.  Maybe being positive isn’t so small.

 

Hannah Galli