Splits Happen: An Airport Love Story

Airports are already a special kind of hell, but nothing says “vacation kickoff” like arriving at Philadelphia International at 4:00 a.m. for a 6:30 a.m. flight. We hadn’t even made it to security before life decided to remind me that gravity and I are frenemies at best.

First, some context.

• I never check a bag. That’s Russian Roulette with luggage, and I am not about to trust my underwear to fate.

• The Boy insisted on checking his. Bold move.

• The Recluse (my 21-year-old son who avoids human interaction like it’s gluten) stepped onto the escalator first with his bag.

Then it was my turn.

Naturally, my suitcase wheel caught on the escalator step, and physics said, “Let’s dance.” Suddenly, I was sliding backward in slow motion. And listen, I know my klutzy brand. When falling, I don’t fight it. I just embrace the chaos, laugh manically, and hope the universe appreciates my slapstick routine.

But The Boy? Oh, no. He decided he was going to be my hero. Instead of letting me elegantly ride the escalator to the top on my back, he tried to catch me. What he accomplished instead was wedging one foot under my rogue suitcase while the other remained firmly on solid ground — forcing his body into a slow, inevitable split. It was like watching a man rehearse for the ballet recital he never signed up for.

Meanwhile, I’m flat on my back cackling like the Joker, while The Recluse just rides to the top without a single glance back. As if strangers were collapsing behind him and he’d simply decided: “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

Enter the Good Samaritan — a random traveler who swooped in like a TSA-approved guardian angel. He lifted the suitcase off The Boy, freeing him from both injury and future infertility, then pulled me to my feet so I could ride the escalator as intended: upright, slightly bleeding, but still laughing like a lunatic.

And that, dear reader, is true romance. Not candlelit dinners or roses. No, love is a man nearly sacrificing his hamstrings to keep me from riding an escalator on my back at 4 a.m. Hallmark could never.