Waiting for a plane

I’m sitting in the airport again, waiting on a plane. It’s rather comfortable to sit on the floor, coffee cup by my side, and laptop plugged in to the wall. I’m trying to download something on Netflix so I can watch it during my flight.

Do you ever wonder who in the world all the other people in the airport are? Where they are going and what their stories are? I do. All the time. I see a pilot walk by and I wonder what his family is like. Do his children think he is a hero or do they resent that he misses out on family life? All the men in business suits – what kind of companies do they work for? Everyone has their cell phones by their side. Everyone but me. I left it in the car when I was getting dropped off. Whoops. I also left my hairbrush. My travel hairbrush. I have two. One for my bathroom and one for my carry-on bag. I must be tired.

I also wonder why everyone has the same luggage. I want to know who buys the pretty painted luggage that they sell in the boutiques. People like me probably. My luggage isn’t a matte black or a dull red.

There’s a sea of legs, people walking, walking in front of me. I’m envious of all the pretty black leather boots that the women are wearing. Not the high-heeled ones, although they are nice, but the flat riding boots with the supple leather details. I’ve been trying to budget for a pair – only real leather will do – but have yet to plunk down the money.

I’m off. It’s time to board yet another plane.

Peace out!


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