In transit

I’m currently sitting in the Whitehorse airport, waiting for my connecting flight to Vancouver. I’m writing this post on my laptop, and will post it sometime over the next day or so, once I get to my parents’ and have internet access once more. It’s grey and dreary and rainy here in Whitehorse today. During the last leg of the flight, my stomach felt queasy, and I kept telling myself not to vomit, which was odd because I never vomit, and probably couldn’t even if I tried. Maybe my body was telling me that I was not ready to leave Inuvik, that this grey weather was an omen.

There are three more hours to go until my next flight, and I’m feeling restless. I was fortunate to have been allowed to check in my suitcase four hours early, so that I didn’t have to drag it all over the airport with me. (Okay, so not all over, since it’s a tiny airport, but I always feel better after having checked in.) I’ve consumed a bag of ketchup chips from the vending machine, and am finishing up a bottle of grapefruit juice before going through security.

I’m already making a mental list of items to shop for over the next couple of days, before taking off for Ontario. I might cave and finally purchase an MP3 player for that plane-ride and accompanying three-hour wait at the Toronto airport. I need to buy a new pair of shoes for the wedding I’m going to. I want a hat and a new pair of shorts. But, I’m loathing the idea of walking through a mall, with the crowds that I’m no longer used to. I always feel like a frump whenever I’m in the “big city” again, when my hairstyle seems “boondoggish” and my clothes even more so. I think I might need to rally the help of one of my best friends. She’s the shopper-extraordinaire, and hits all of the stylish shops. When I stroll in beside her, I feel less likely to be gawked or wondered at.

The one thing I miss about shopping at a mall is the bookstore. I can’t wait to stroll into Chapters. My anti-corporate monopoly thoughts have long flown far from my mind since moving up north. Online shopping for books is just not the same. I want to be able to flip through the pages, feel the weight of the books in my hands, smell the ink and paper, and run my fingers all over the dust covers. Some books jump out at me from the shelves for unbeknownst reasons. Others, I would stumble upon at unexpected moments, when I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for, but certain that my search would not be in vain. I’m going to go and find that perfect book to bring with me to Thunder Bay.

Okay, now that I’ve killed fifteen minutes, the next two hours and forty-five minutes will fly by. (A girl could always wish….)