Miracles...Magic...

...and a bit of mayhem

Years ago, when my babies were out of diapers, and I had somehow managed to write a few books in between breastfeeding, poop diapers, colic, crying in the bathroom, and wondering if I would ever be sane again, I started traveling to book events. This meant I had to get on airplanes.

What a shocking turn of events! I wasn’t a good flyer back then after dodging bullets in Bosnia, hanging out of a helicopter in a prior life, and almost crashing in Chicago, but I was excited to talk to adults at an airport bar or waiting in line. Imagine my surprise when people thought looking at their cell phones was more exciting than talking to me.

The world had changed during those diaper-changing years.

Last week I was in shock yet again. First of all, the frigging TSA mess is a flying disaster. What in the holy hell else can that head idiot and his butt-kissing pals screw up for us? The ICE agents (just a mess of mostly men who can’t find jobs anywhere else) were standing around looking like the stray dogs they are at two airports. I digress, but not really.

Once out of the airport in San Juan, I realized once again that people no longer like each other but remain in love with their phones. Forget about politeness, kindness, and human interaction. I guess watching people’s dogs sing, and cats dance, is really exciting to their pea brains.

So, travel sucks right now, but I went to Puerto Rico to hold this guy, and love on his Mom and Dad, that’s pretty much what I did all week.

But first, there was a miracle that still has me knocked off my feet. Just when a Broad like me thinks there might be an end to those magical moments during travel, I got a big one.

We had just stepped into the lobby of the hotel, absolutely exhausted, and glad to be out of the damn airport, when I looked up and saw my son walking out of the elevator. We had no idea he and his family would be there, and it was a reunion and a moment I will never forget. Andrew, my son, had yet to meet his nephew, so there was that, and then his son, Quill, got to meet his cousin for the first time, and I have not stopped crying since that day. To top it off, Andrew, Becca, and Quill were staying in the room next to us. What are the chances?

We only had them for one night as they were flying out, but come on! This proves that despite the shit show that selfish monsters have created, miracles cannot be controlled, and Broads, listen, do not surrender to the doom and gloom!

So, Puerto Rico does not have rocks. I am a rock woman and not much into the beach scene any longer. And the beach selfies went on 24-7 with mostly naked women, and I think some of them didn’t realize they were even on a beach. (I sound like an old Broad, but I’m not. I appreciate a good wave, even if I have skin cancer.) Spring break is a shit show, but when your daughter asks you to come and be with the baby, you drop everything, stand in line for hours, and take your arms and heart and go.

I wouldn’t blame you right now for cancelling a trip, but please remember we are Broads, and we have done much, much, much harder things than standing in line, trying not to beat the shit out of useless ICE agents, and bumping into rude people who will not move over on the sidewalk.

There’s a miracle waiting for you, and I want more of those!!!!!

And now, as we did in the old days of journalism…###…this one is over.