Giant neon signs lined the airport terminal, and I scanned them for directions to a decent cup of coffee. The Boston airport is free of the corporate emerald green of Starbucks, the beatnik black and red of Dunn Bros, and the campy brown and blue of Caribou. Instead, the early morning lines snaked like snap beads in front of the cartoon orange and pink colors of the coffee of my childhood. The Dunkin Doughnuts. I stood in line anticipating a trip down memory lane.
White styrofoam cups stood in height formation on the counter top. Super sized is the new large. Vanity sizing has hit both clothing and food. I ordered a medium coffee with cream, and then marveled as the teenager across the counter flipped a switch on the cream dispenser and half of my glass darkened. He then poured the coffee. The concoction tasted like exactly what it was, cream diluted with a tiny bit of coffee-flavored water. Nostalgia can only add so much flavor, the truth about my beverage was detectable. It was terrible, and it made me feel sick.
In desperation for a positive reconnection with old times, I went back for a chocolate doughnut. That only made me feel worse. The man sitting across from me was reading a running magazine and happily nibbling on a homemade egg sandwich. I had breakfast envy. I felt displaced sitting in that little chair in the airport. There were too many clocks, each one reading a different time. It was happy hour in one restaurant and breakfast in another. A woman walked by in surf shorts, dragging little children wearing flip flops. Passing her in the other direction walked a bearded man wearing a heavy winter sweater. All of the cues that remind me of where I stand and who I am, were confused by mismatched cues of time zones and weather.
The man across from me slowly, calmly turned the pages of his magazine and chewed on his sandwich. I finished my doughnut, tossed out what was left of the coffee and prepared to board the plane. As the plane made it's descent, so too did I. My lids drooped and my nerves felt raw. I had a stale and sour taste on the roof of my mouth. I felt depressed and irritable. Poor Christina had to greet me in my moodiness at the airport. I kept thinking about the mountain air, about being out in the trees, about the freshness I felt and the freedom of movement. My body was heavy and tired from the sugar. For dinner, I decided to make a light salad, and fill it with herbs which would pull me into the present. I used up every herb that we had left in the fridge.
Fridge cleaner cabbage salad
Chop 1/2 green cabbage
2 peeled diced carrots
add 1 large bunch dill, chopped fine
3 diced garlic scapes
2 chopped green garlic stocks
1 inch grated fresh ginger
1 Tbsp rice vinegar
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp packed brown sugar
1 tsp ume plum vinegar
1 tsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp soy sauce
Christina's vote: "Creativity at its best"
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