Long Day

I’ve been up since 2:30. A.M. (I wish it was PM, that would be a nice thing to write about, eh? Although probably very uninteresting….). I am not a fan of getting up early, but don’t really mind it when I can get my early event over with and relax through the rest of the day. This is not one of those days. I got up, drove 2 and a half hours to the airport, flew for an hour, and then hopped in the car for another 3 hour drive. Then went to work. Blech. And the worst part is…..I saw someone I know at the airport.

I HATE seeing people I know from high school. For those of you who know me well, you know that I avoid, at all costs, having anything to do with this part of my life. I didn’t really enjoy high school, didn’t really get a whole lot out of it, and other than one very, very dear friend, I couldn’t care less about the 375 other people who had to struggle through the fairly miserable existence alongside me. I played a lot, I mean A LOT, of soccer in high school, which meant I wasn’t around in the evenings and on weekends to have a normal high school experience and make a lot of friends at my particular school. I was about the same height I am now, but only about 80 pounds. Dripping wet. So I wasn’t anything to look at. I got decent grades, but was really quiet, and overall, just didn’t stand out. Meh.

Anyway, I was always envious of the people who seemed to be living a charmed high school existence and knew that once I could make it through those four years there was more out there for me. So I moved away and never looked back. Now, unfortunately, my entire family, minus MommaMonday, still lives there. This means that I always run the risk of running into someone I know when I go back (reason number 394 not to go to the Wal-Mart in town). Which is pretty regularly. So far I’ve managed to stay under the radar. Until today.

As sad as this is, I’m still young enough and immature enough to take some small amount of glee in people who look drastically different than they did in high school (and I, of course, mean look worse). The girl that I ran into, Emily, was fairly popular and well-liked, although I was never sure why. She was always one of those people who seemed like she was trying too hard to fit in and be popular when there was nothing really outstanding about her. Nice enough, smart enough, but she just reeked of popular-girl desperation. So here she was in the Orlando airport this morning with her slightly overweight husband and downright adorable baby. She’s put on some baby weight (but not a whole lot, luckily! She’s only about 5 feet tall, so not a lot of room to spare). Immediately upon recognizing her, I started in on my duck-and-run tactics. Childish, I know (what part of this whole thing doesn’t just reek of immaturity, sad) but I have a very strong desire to never, ever, be seen by anyone from that part of my life again. I’d rather they all just think I evaporated. And it certainly didn’t help that we both looked like we’d been up since the wee hours (glasses instead of contacts, tennis shoes with jeans, and partially wet ponytail).

Anyway, I’m rambling. Which is what I do on little to no sleep. Suffice to say it was sad to run into someone I know (we never made eye contact or spoke), but it was even worse that I can’t be a big girl about it.