By: Gabriela Yareliz
I am cominggg…
It has not been the typical holiday travel whirlwind. Thank God. I took a train to where my shuttle was supposed to pick me up. It never came. Instead, a black car came to pick me up. A limo service. Jesus does it again. All right, I’ll take it, I thought.
The driver yelled at me from the limo window showing me my name and payment information. He asked me if my name was Ms. Ronaldo, despite the fact that he had my actual last name in front of him. He couldn’t even pronounce my name. Of course, Cristiano Ronaldo popped into my head. Nope, not his wife. Turns out the company got my last complaint and sent me a limo. Fabulous. And I am a soccer star’s wife. Double fabulous.
The driver was kind, and he was Indian and loved all of my favorite Indian film classics. Dil Chahta Hai, anyone? He commented on the fact that my parents should have given me an “easier” name and that it was a pity that I was unmarried. This is what happens when you engage in small talk and don’t wear jewelry. He did not miss a thing. He also pulled over twice when I thought for sure that I was going to decorate the interior of his limo with my stomach acid.
There was dizzying traffic. That was typical. The limo driver thought I was going to vomit in his car. I almost did. I could see his stressed out face in the rearview mirror. I am not sure if it was all the stress, the random limo, the long day at work– but when I saw the red lights of endless rows of cars, all I could do was bite my bottom lip. I never get car sick, so this was weird.
No line for bag drop-off and security. God bless LaGuardia. The news is on. A woman on CNN asked a commentator if the idea of Marco Rubio as president made him want to vomit. I laughed. It certainly makes me want to vomit, even on a regular day when I don’t feel like this.
By the way, how do they get these political poll numbers? No one has ever asked me my opinion…
Anyway, I am on my way. Soon, I’ll be in the state both Rubio and I call home.