My New Jet Setting Life and What I've Learned About Airports and Planes

I have never flown as often as I have in the past six months. And, I've traveled solo.

Relocating from Chicago to Florida meant that I would need to travel back to home base, occasionally, for my job. Plus, I've added in conferences, work meetings in other states, speaking engagements, and one more trip for my daughter to attend an anime convention. So, I've been in and out of airports... a lot.

Following is a list of unrelated incidents and observations from this newbie frequent flier:

1) Orlando Airport has the most children. Children bearing Mickey Mouse ears and in full-blown meltdowns from over stimulation. I have never, ever in my life seen so many cranky kids and adults with glazed-over eyes clutching their cups of coffee.

2) There is something joyous about going through security alone. For all of you mamas out there, you know what I mean. You only need to take off your shoes and coat, and unpack your Ziploc baggie of essentials. You only need to keep track of you.

3) Even then, I mess up. In the tiniest airport ever - Grand Rapids - I was pulled aside for an extra security check. The TSA agent asked me if I had any weapons. Really? Me? No. What I did have - I soon discovered was a renegade bottle of water.

4) Women have it rough. I stood next to one woman who was shouting to the TSA agent: "It's a breast pump." "Great," she told me. "Now the entire airport knows I'm lactating." She said that one time she even had to take a drink of her breast milk to show it was the real thing. Oh dear.

5) Starbucks is your friend. I only went through one airport - Midway - where Starbucks was not clearly evident and abounding. I hated that. I almost felt paralyzed with confusion.

6) I am always fearful I will drop my suitcase on someone's head while lifting it into the overhead bin. Thankful for the chivalrous man who helped me on the last flight. Thank you kind sir. You have no idea.

7) Southwest rules. They just do.

8) There is no gum for sale in the Orlando Airport. I know. Travesty. The clerk told me to buy Mentos. Really?! How will my ears ever pop?

9) I still get a childlike thrill at take-off - and always put my hand out to help the pilot break when we land. Always.

10) I have enjoyed many, many packets of Ritz Cracker Chips - which we all delightfully accept - and I will probably never ever buy or eat them anywhere else. They're kind of like 7up when you are sick. You are so grateful and happy just to have a little treat.

11) You really do need to check in 24 hours in advance. I once went renegade and didn't. I was in something like the "E" section - behind everyone else. When I got to the boarding gate, they needed to "check" my bag. Bummer. Now, I sit by my computer like a hawk searching for its prey - ready to pounce at that exact minute. Once, I claimed B-1!!!!

12) Choosing your seat is strategic. In Southwest, you choose your seat. Avoid the screaming kids (I know - I had one once - but I don't now). Avoid the coughers - you just know you'll be sick two days later. Avoid the strange chatty men that smile and pat the seat next to them. Avoid the center seat. Try to get near the front for a quick escape.

13) I really like flying. It is like a little mini-vacation. I can read, chew my gum, eat my little bag of Ritz Cracker Chips, have a Coke with ice, watch a little home decorating, do some writing, and then I'm there - somewhere else.

14) Coming home is the best. Tap my sparkly red shoes and take me home. As much as I enjoy the momentary sense of freedom and the quiet hotel room with full control of the lights, air and tv channel, I miss everyone the minute I leave.

Mary McLeod Bethune: She Has Given Her Best

I first heard about Mary McLeod Bethune when I was a student at Moody Bible Institute. She was an early graduate of my college - and an African American woman. I knew she had gone on to become one of the greatest women in our country. She was so well known that she earned the status of being featured on our postage stamps. But I didn't really know much about her. As I researched Mary McLeod Bethune for my book, When Others Shuddered: Eight Women Who Refused to Give Up . I learned a bit more about her remarkable life: She was the 15th of 17 children, born to former slaves. From an early age, she hungered for education. She graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a desire for missionary service to Africa - an opportunity she was denied because of her race. Undeterred, she started a school for African American girls in Daytona Beach, Florida, that went on to become Bethune Cookman University. She was asked to work with Franklin D. Roosevelt and led many African Am

Pacific Garden Mission: A Bed, A Meal and the Bright Light of Hope

In 1877, a woman named Sarah Dunn Clarke and her newly-wedded husband George started a rescue mission on Chicago’s south side. They were wealthy, but their hearts were broken by the men and women who struggled to survive on the city’s streets. The Pacific Garden Mission is the 2 nd oldest operating rescue mission in the United States. Now located on 14 th St and Canal – just south of Chicago’s loop – they offer shelter to as many as a thousand men and women on any given night. As part of my book research to understand how the work of Sarah Clarke continues today, I visited the mission with my friend Dawn Pulgine. Entering through the side, we felt a bit out of our element. Men, black and white, old and young, clustered near the doorway. Some carried bags of personal belongings. Others were working the desk and security. It was mid-day at the Mission. We were given a tour by one of the “program men” – residents who choose to stay and live at the

Your Roots Are Showing

I'm older. I know that. But, honestly, I still feel pretty young. Well, most days at least Today I received a not-requested senior discount at Einstein Bagels. It appeared as a $1.03 credit on my receipt, along with the cheery explanation. And if other people don't tell me I'm older, my body definitely does. I traveled to and from Chicago last week with my daughter and her friend. Being the self sufficient woman I am, I helped the girls boost their luggage into the airline's overhead bin. Later that day, I felt my mistake. My back has not been happy ever since. I've been putting those sticky heat patches on it, Ben Gay rub, ice, heat wraps, you name it. And still when I turn incorrectly . . . ouch. There are other signs too. I wear glasses now . . . all the time. It started with readers, and then progressed to progressives. And I HAVE to color my hair now. Those pesky roots keep reappearing in an ever-shinier shade of silver. I (briefly) considered embr

Jamie Janosz

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