Determined to reward myself for diligently working for two hours during my layover (never mind the “reward” of the Fuddruckers hamburger), I slipped into the DFW airport spa for a quick manicure. Errrr … let’s squeeze in a pedicure, too. Heavens know my feet need a bit o’ grooming.
45 minutes to boarding time … sure they can do it.
55 minutes later I shuffled down the polished floors of Concourse D, past five gates and one moving sidewalk in pathetically huge spa slippers. You know the ones … two millimeters thick, one-size-fits-all, vaguely looks like smashed pieces of white bread on the bottom your polished feet. I gingerly waved my hands in the passing air to speed the nail drying process as a brown paper bag heavy with my platform slip-ons dangled from the crook of my elbow and my heavy bag (a.k.a. mobile office) hung from my shoulder.
“This is the final boarding call for American Flight 1062 to Louisville. All passengers must be on board at this time.’
With the boarding pass in hand (courteously dug from my bag and placed in my beautifully groomed hand from the porcelain-skinned manicurist before my dash to the gate), I approached the American agent at the boarding door. A quick smile crossed her face as she spotted my curious footwear.
Halfway down the boarding bridge (of course I was the only one inside as I was the very last to board), I swapped the nothing-flatter spa slippers for my leg-shaping platforms. My I-care-not-how-I-look-in-public whim had reached its limit.
After gliding down the aisle and slipping into my 10A window seat, I assess if the precautions of wearing the slippers and conspicuously waving my hands throughout the airport terminal in order to satisfy vanity was worth it.
Oh snap! Two index fingers smudged and one thumb nail polish dug up.
Sigh … oh well … teaches me to not to rush through something that needs time.
Lesson learned: give yourself ample time to present your self most appropriately. But if a smudge happens, acknowledge it and work it. I wore that nail polish, smudges and all, for the usual week-long lifespan and enjoyed a silent chuckle as I reminisced about my ice skate down the DFW concourse in white spa slippers.