I’m sitting in the airport alone. People are in groups. Talking, laughing, watching videos on their phones – all for my entertainment. I watch them, study how they look at each other, catching the little looks they give. It’s fun to sit next to a pretty girl and watch all the guys check her out. It’s predicable and quite funny.
I’m sure there’s only a few people in the world and I’ve seen all these ones before. They may have been wearing different clothes, in different groups, but I’m sure it’s the same 200 Â or so faces I’ve seen before. I wonder if theÂ personalitiesÂ are as limited.
The kids are entertaining too. They are on an adventure. Some are tired and cry, others are bored and whine forÂ electronicÂ entertainment, but my favorites are the ones running around playing. They just seem so intent on living in this place that is really just waiting.
This place is waiting. That’s all you do here. You wait. You wait to go through security, wait for the plane, wait for the plane to take off, wait for the flight to be over, wait to de-board. And after all that waiting, you’ve got to wait for your luggage.
I always expect to see someone I know. This is part to the fact that there are only 200 or so faces in the world. I would be the happiest person in the world if randomly I saw someone I know and they happend to be going to the same place I am, on the same flight. But I don’t see anyone I know, just thoseÂ familiarÂ faces. I feel like I should know them. Like that guy over there. Did I meet him at some event? Did I go to high school ten years ago with that woman there? Could that be a friend of a friend that I met once, a long, long time ago?