As I’ve mentioned, I do have a touch of my dad’s OCD. And the other day, when I was stuck in O’Hare most of the day, I was… bothered by the fact that the edge of the vinyl cushioned seat on which I sat was ripped, almost as if chewed away by a dog. I hated the way it felt, so of course I couldn’t stop touching it – like a sore tooth.

Then I remembered the tie-dyed duct tape in my bag. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, ripped off a piece and covered the offending tear. I was worried that TSA agents would suddenly appear and accuse me of trying to blow up the airport with explosive duct tape — but nothing.

So if you’re ever sitting at Gate 10 of the USAirways terminal, and you happen to notice a patch of pink and purple tie-dyed duct tape on the corner of an end-row seat?

That was me.

5 thoughts on “My OCD

  1. I’ll bet that tape will be there until the building is condemned for structural deficiencies.

  2. I guess bag fees are not enough. Next the airlines will be charging repair fees for the seats in the waiting area.
    PS. See you at NN in Providence next summer!

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