So I am sitting here at 2:30 for a 6:00 flight, which means I have three hours to kill (at LEAST) before boarding starts.
But it's okay. After wandering from gate to gate, peering under chairs in what must have seemed a suspicious fashion, I found an electrical outlet so I can recharge my Blackberry, which is what I'm doing now.
The upside is that I managed to wander into the only quiet part of ORD's American terminal, the long hallway between the H and K Gates. It's kind of nice. It's very quiet, it has windows that look over the tarmac so I can do some planespotting (747 wearing Evergreen International livery? Never heard of it!), and most blessedly, I am ALONE.
A virtually empty hallway in the busiest airport in the world.
Okay, so I'm sitting on the floor outside a ladies' restroom.
My mother would be appalled that I am sitting on the floor of an airport.
I bought these boots in 1992, and they're just about broken in.
Too bad. I am BY MYSELF!
Every person I know in the world thinks I'm somewhere else. My family thinks I'm in New York. My coworkers think I'm in Waukegan at the printer. The printer thinks I've boarded an earlier flight and that I'm probably already airborne.
So in essence, I don't exist right now. I'm no one. I wonder if this is how Valerie Plame used to feel?
The sad thing is that I comfort myself by doing work.
777 with Swiss livery, big red cross on its tail.
A half dozen American MD80's nuzzled into the K and H gates like a litter of puppies. I heard they are going to phase them out in favor of new 737s, thank god. I am so old I remember when the MD80s were the shiny new face of American. Now they're all 20 years old and just a little bit tatty. And uncomfortable as hell. The new 73s are MUCH nicer. My brother-in-law has already transitioned over and loves the Boeing.
A darling little white-haired man just came up to me and admired my electrical outlet with covetous eyes. Old man, I will take you OUT.
A situation like this is a gift. I can dwell or not dwell on the thing that has preoccupied me since the beginning of April, I can obsessively refresh my Yahoo inbox or not while wondering why there is no email even though I'm the one who said stop sending me nice emails. I can examine this feeling of "sad yet not sad," and marvel that I am remarkably okay, considering. I can ponder the nature of the universe, staff my favorite imaginary Federal Government department (why, the U.S. Department of Peace, of course.) or sit here like a moron exhaling spit bubbles if I feel like it.
Frankly, I wouldn't mind disappearing for awhile.
Remembered something about the nature of relationships. The speed from friend to lover is exactly the same as the speed from lover to friend. In both cases, it will only move as fast as the slower person wants it to move. I wonder when I will be ready to be friends.
My unfortunate tendency to examine faces is going to get me into trouble. I don't just glance, I acknowledge. Unfortunately this is often read as an invitation to have a conversation. SHOO!
3:58pm. I've killed nearly an hour and a half.
Sorry about this ridiculously self-indulgent post. If I hadn't finished all my magazines this morning, you wouldn't be suffering through this with me.
What I really want is a cigarette and a beer, but since one of those is prohibited, I'm going to go have a beer.
See you at LaGuardia.
1 comment:
I flew Evergreen once. It seemed small somehow. The stewardesses were like little China dolls.
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