transformation CHAPTER THREE "Yeah, I know, I've got

"Yeah, I know, I've got it all under control. The plane leaves at nine tonight so I need to be at the airport by seven. Mmhm, okay," I groaned.
"So I'll be home around six, we're having a family dinner before you leave," my dad replied, hanging up before I could say goodbye. Ever since I had confirmed to my parents that I was moving, my dad had been trying to be more of a father to me. Which didn't say much, knowing him. He was still the buisness man he always was; crisp, proper, and to the point. At least I could say he was trying.
I walked up the stairs to my room, the second one on the left, and threw my suitcase on my bed. Pulling every piece of clothing I owned out of my closet, I watched as fabrics of every color fell to the floor, landing in a pile bigger than me. Since I practically wore the same thing every day, I barely even realized how many clothes I had. I grabbed my shirts and pants from the floor in fistfulls, dropping them in my suitcase in a crinkled mess. It didn't really matter, no one would pay attention to me anyways. Finally, after packing dozens of outfits into my bag, I zipped it up, placing it by the door so it was ready to go.
"Babe, I'm home!" my mother yelled from the kitchen, and I could hear the jingle of keys and the clunk of shopping bags as she set her things down on the counter. "I brought chinese!" she called.
Of course, it would be just like my mother to turn a family dinner into a takeout meal. Not that I should have expected much more, no one in my family had cooked a real dinner in years.
//
"Oh, hon, it's already six fourty five. We should probably get you going, don't want to miss your flight!" my mom smiled, gesturing for me to go back upstairs and grab my suitcase. We climbed in the car, and I sat in the backseat with my bag next to me. My parents tried to engage in small talk, which just ended up being awkward for all three of us.
"Well, here we are. I expect you can handle yourself from here?" My dad asked, not even a hint of a sentimental tone in his voice.
"Yeah, dad, I'll be fine. I'll probably see you guys in a few months, but I'll call when the plane lands. Love you both," I smiled, only seconds before my dad sped off. I watched the black sedan drive away, and my mom thrust her head out of the window.
"Loooooveeee yooooouuu!" she called, so distant I could barely hear. I laughed to myself, knowing that by now my father was probably scolding her for embarrassing him in public like that. After all, to my dad, everything was about reputation.
//
I've noticed that there's a certain smell that only airports have. I don't know what it is, but it greeted me as I walked in the door. Immediately I was caught up in a sea of people hurrying every which way, bags rolling at their feet. Pulling my passport out of my purse, I handed it to the security lady standing at the Delta Airlines desk. She smiled and took my luggage, placing it on the scale, and then set it on a conveyor belt behind her. I watched as a small slip of paper fell out of the printer.
"There's your boarding pass, miss, and have a nice flight," she smiled again, waving the next person up to the desk as I turned and walked away. I made my way through security without any difficulties, not that I expected any. Letting out a long sigh, I walked past dozens of terminals until I found the one that matched the number on my boarding pass: Terminal 28C. "Thank God," I whispered to myself, my lips barely moving.
I sat down in a cushioned, black chair, two seats away from a man who's heavy metal music I could hear clearly, even though he was wearing headphones. I tapped my leg impatiently and pointlessly rifled through my purse, hoping to find something to hold my attention as I waited.
"Flight 184 to Dallas, calling all Delta members flying 184 to Dallas. First class members, please check in," a nasaly voice spoke into the microphone. I shifted in my seat, wishing I was in first class. With my luck, I would probably be stuck between two sweaty men who fall asleep on my shoulder. And snore.
"Flight 184 to Dallas, coach members in rows one through nine may board now," the voice said again. I glanced at the slip of paper in my hand. Row 3, Seat D. Standing up, I threw my purse over my shoulder and walked towards the desk. After waiting in line as everyone else checked in, I finally made it to the front.
"Passport and Boarding pass, please," the lady said, her voice completely monotonous. I handed her what she asked for, biting my lip nervously as she scanned my pass. If it didn't work, I was screwed. I wasn't really worried, but there was always the possiblity. I mentally rejoiced when the scanner blinked green and the lady handed my pass back to me.
"Thanks and have a nice flight. Neeexxt," she called. I walked past her, stepping onto the tarmac in front of me. Silently praying for a painless flight, I stepped onto the plane.
Well? This is it. No turning back now.