f*ck you, stupid boarding pass for doing this to me

have you ever gotten so caught up in a memory that it took your breath away?
like, literally, took your breath away and left you standing there, so wrapped up in a tiny moment from your past that you are paralyzed with a ten second memory for what feels like eternity?
and you can't do anything about it.
you can't shake it out of your head.
you can't get up and move away. you're locked in.

this has been happening to me a lot lately.
a song.
a crumpled business card.
an article of clothing.
a boarding pass stuffed from two months ago in your purse.

i found that boarding pass while i was at work today, looking for something else entirely. what i found was a memory that i didn't think i had enough room for in my clouded head. a memory that is so minor, but so significant, that six hours later, i can't stop thinking about what that ten second period of the day did to me.
the boarding pass was from a trip i had taken in december. to visit, oh, he needs a name, let's call him Brooklyn. Brooklyn could possibly be the love of my life. we'll get to that later.

as i sat at my desk, rearranging a boring database, my mind flooded. in the literal sense, except that a rush of intense emotion took the water's place.

i had issues with the self-check-in machine. so a friendly northwest worker, i believe his name was rod, neal or something like that, helped me. he smiled. and i remember smiling and glowing because i could not wait to greet who was waiting for me 300 miles away at LaGuardia. i remembered the guy who lost his money clip at the security checkpoint and the way he smelled when he bent down to put his shoes on. sweet, like honey and shaving cream. "they are going to say they can't find it, but it has to be here somewhere." i wished him luck and finished putting my boots on. i remembered sitting at the gate pretending to read my book but trying to keep my heart in my chest. the detroit-afternoon sun was pooring through the windows and warming my face. i fiddled with my iPod, thumbed through Dharma Bums and sat ... trying to wait patiently. the girl across the aisle was dressed in her work clothes, big girl pants and high heeled shoes. she was reading about NYC sightseeing. another girl, in sweats, was talking on her phone to whom i think was her mother, babysitting her daugther while she was away. i wanted to be asked. please ask me where i am going. ask me who's picking me up. ask me why i am doing this to myself -- again.

i remember sitting on the plane. trying to keep it under control. watching out the window to make sure my red luggage made it onto the plane. it did. i relaxed. everytime my heart skipped, i reminded myself not to get excited.
no expectations this time, i thought.
do not get your hopes up.
just let it flow.

this worked for the duration of the flight.

and when i landed and was rolling my luggage out to the car and, more importantly, Brooklyn, i let my heart skip. let it run. because i was running. running into a person's arms whom i knew didn't love me, but didn't care. or at least that is what i told myself. don't we all tell ourselves that?

this is what a crumpled up boarding pass can do to a person. i don't know that it is healthy. but at least i have a good memory. sometimes too good. it's these moments... these moments that are over before i can stop for a one second and think, this is a good one.

i can't remember if i tore that boarding pass into a million pieces or if i shoved it back into my purse. honestly, i don't want to find out. i'm glad i have a big purse.