I’m not a wimp.

I need to go ahead and say that up front. Because at some point in this post you may say, “Annie sorta sounds like a … “, then you’ll pause, reread the title, and then say to yourself, “Well, actually, nope. She’s not a wimp. She told us that already.”

It’s called being on the offensive.

Anyways, today was my first experience in the Nashville airport. For a big city girl like me, used to the Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta International Could Have Its Own Zip Code Airport, you’d think that a tiny little airport like Nashville’s would be simple to figure out and fairly manageable.

Or so you’d think.

On Tuesday, though I was publicly mocked by my friend Jason, I made a practice run to the airport. We ALL know my tendencies to get lost and since I had to be at the airport at 5am [also known as the BUTT CRACK OF DAWN], I wanted to have it sorta figured out when it was light outside. Mission Accomplished.

Or so I thought.

This morning came early [thank you Tatum for the 3am wake-up text], I was ready to walk out the door at 4:45am. I turn on my Garmin and it can’t find a satellite! I begin to replay my conversation with Jason- did he say it was 65N or 65S? To I-40E, I think? If it was as easy to find as he, and everyone else in the 615 area code, says, surely I could pull this off.

Not to mention I had driven the EXACT ROUTE three days ago.

Garmin pulls through for me [no one is more grateful than Jason because a 5am wake up call may have ended the friendship], but as I get to the airport, I can’t find the parking. I loop the airport twice, then finally see the economy lot. It is a LONG WAY from the airport. Like, impossible to walk long way.

Jason didn’t mention that. Neither did Kevin or Mandy or the girls at supper club or any other human I have talked to. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that I prefer to be given EVERY SINGLE DETAIL. Listen, don’t get me wrong, I love adventure. But “adventure” of this type quickly moves to the “Nightmare” category in my mind when I don’t have a backup plan. I park my car [actually putting it in park- unlike yesterday] and then have 2 realizations:

1) I do not know how to get to the airport because walking is way out of the question

2) I do not see another human being to help me out

This is the moment when if I was a wimp, I would have cried. But not me. I’m one tough cookie. I mean, maybe I thought about crying, but I promise no tears dripped.

Luckily, I saw another car pull in to the lot, so being the stellar stalker that I am, I followed them, parked by them, and watched. Ahhh…. a bus/trolley thing of sorts. Perfect.

But all hope was lost. I was flustered, confused, disappointed in my own ability to enjoy such situations, and above all things- LONELY. It was probably the moment I have felt the most alone since I moved.

Not only was I traveling alone, ALL my friends that were in Nashville were sleeping, some of my Nash-buddies aren’t even in town, and my Marietta people can’t help me with this one.

I did not cry. I did not call my Mom, my friends I’m flying to in San Antonio, or any Nash-folks. I just kept moving. One foot in front of the other. Ticket line. Security. Gate. Plane.

And now I sit in the Memphis airport waiting to connect to San Antonio. To go see my friends and listen to Beth Moore bring the Word. So to have a bit of “opposition” probably isn’t a surprise. But nor was it a joy.

I don’t really have some great lesson I got out of this or something super wise to share with you. No church sign or hero to the rescue. I think I just needed to say out loud that the trip to the airport was hard.

But it will be worth it.

P.S- You’re right. I’m kind of a wimp. Sorry. I don’t mean to be. I didn’t turn the car around and drive home though. THAT would have secured my residence in Wimp-ville.

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Stay up to date with our weekly newsletter. It’s all things fun with Annie.