8/26/11 Time to Kill…Gin and Tonics

My parents suffer from a horrible mental condition, but they’re not alone in this.  After talking with friends I’ve come to the conclusion that most old people are fixated on getting to the airport way ahead of schedule.  It was because of this affliction that I found myself at the airport 3.5 hours before our scheduled departure time.  My mother’s reasoning for this is that when she’s at home she feels she has to do things, and the longer she stays at home the more chance there is that she will miss her flight.  The departure lounge becomes a “safe zone” where she can truly relax in anticipation of her flight.

For me, a couple of hours to kill meant that I could engage in my pre-flight routine…get tipsy.  Flying time is a black hole; a waste.  The best use of it is sleep, and to force that I headed to the bar for some ginses and tonicses (as we professionals call them).  Sergio, the overly friendly bartender suggested I have doubles since it would cost me less in the long run.  He was right; the sinister reality is that the more you drink, the more you save.

While finishing off my second double I was pulled into conversation with Frank, an older Croatian man who looked like my sister-in-law Rose’s father.  I told Frank Rose’s maiden name and he figured that Rose’s family was from Dalmatia.  I recalled hearing that name before and with a face as expressive and weathered as Frank’s, I had no reason to doubt his regional knowledge.  In a halting cadence he told me “I am from near there.  We are similar to people from Dalmatia; we are all good.”  Frank gave examples of how when he’s back in Croatia he pays visits to people on behalf of friends in Canada and everyone invites him in for coffee and a shot of sljivovica (plum brandy).  An invitation to share coffee and alcohol, it’s the universal sign of “good people”.