To, part one, continued

12:30 AM: I arrive in Salt Lake City on the highway after midnight, sliding around curves of streaking red brake lights, surprisingly not alone on the exit ramp for the airport. My small hatchback pulls into a parking spot nearest a shuttle stop as I could find, then settle in for the night.

12:45 AM: Surprisingly, the driver's seat laid flat is a comfortable bed. I pull my thin corduroy jacket around my shoulders, close my eyes to the street lamp overhead and try to sleep. After dozing on and off for about an hour, I notice the one flaw in my plan--northern Utah gets cold in the middle of the night.

2:00 AM: I wait, shivering, wearing my backpack, for the airport shuttle.

2:30 AM: Find a row of empty waiting chairs and curl my legs against the metal armrest, try again to sleep.

4:30 AM: Too afraid of falling asleep and missing the calls for my flight, and incredibly uncomfortable, I give up trying to sleep, and begin to wander the halls and explore the silent, sleepy crevices of Salt Lake City International Airport, casually looking for my gate.

5:00 AM: I am sitting in the most comfortable red leather armchair I've ever felt, my heavy head lolling backwards as I stare at the TV monitor announcing Departure gates. Only an hour left until my flight is to leave, and no gate has yet been posted.

5:15 AM: Too compulsive to wait any longer, I return to the hallway I previously identified as the United Airlines arena, to troll the gates for the flight to Los Angeles.

6:20 AM: I am finally on board an aircraft. Slumping against my window, I close my eyes and feel the familiar fluttering in the pit of my stomach. I smile, remembering countless flights to the mountains of Montana, and hours pacing in the airports of central New York, waiting, waiting, waiting for the last painful, stretching hour. This time, it has only been two weeks but we are beginning again. I've never been to California.

to be continued...