Leaving

Farewell nog with the Kringle and I'm off, back to my Florida digs and a glorious, candy cane-free existence. I cloak up like I'm going to Aldi's, sidestep to put a big bag of kiddie farts on the front porch of the Sugar Plum sorority house, and tip my Uber driver like I just won the lotto for getting me out of there post haste. At the airport, I feel calm and peaceful while sipping my triple shot latte; a good job done is a good job done. To my right, shenanigans are beginning to ensue; somebody's kids are winding up to lose their complete shit and the parents are struggling to get out in front of the coming chaos. I'M not struggling, though; not one bit. I skooch over to ask, "Hey, you guys okay?" and drop my glamour for about 2 seconds; I point to my eyes and I point to theirs. The reaction is shock and awe (accurate) and the resulting quiet is delightful. "Figure it out, or I'll see you next year," I whisper in their minds, and then I sit back to work on a crossword puzzle. That's about the best I can do to offer a public service announcement.