L.A. Affairs: An LAX flirtation had me on cloud nine. Could we land the plane?
My brother dropped me off curbside at Los Angeles International Airport and yelled, “Run!” Our timing getting to LAX was thwarted by the kind of notorious L.A. traffic that airline change fees and crushed dreams are made of. Departure to Newark, N.J., was at 8:05 a.m. It was 7:25 a.m. I raced through the terminal and up the escalator, two steps at a time, with a carry-on and boots that were not made for running. The line to get through security was a mile long. “Am I going to make it?” I deliriously asked the TSA agent as I handed him my boarding pass, shaking from the mad dash. Without a word, he whisked me past a serpentine of travelers and straight to the metal detector. I was baffled. Maybe he was psychic. I thanked him profusely and kept running. I couldn’t miss this flight. My mother insisted I fly “home” to New Jersey for my birthday — her treat. I was deep into a drifting divorce, disillusioned, depressed and avoiding the other “D” word … dating. I also was hiding from the unwelcome advances