Airport

The droning voice of the loudspeaker repeated it's emotionless warning to watch for danger as we waited impatiently in the semi-comatose line of people, each lost in their own thoughts but all picturing themselves landing, being there already, as if the six hours on the plane was a triviality to be endured. You turned towards me and I smiled at you; you always seemed to know what I was thinking. A bored security agent waved us through and we went through the motions: remove liquids, remove shoes, remove bags. You slipped off your shoes easily; I knew that you planned ahead on that one; I had to unlace mine and hold up the increasingly irritated people behind me.

We made our way to the terminal, but it was already full- the few seats left were either occupied or in between people who seemed to have no intention of making them available. So we made our way over to the tall plate glass window and leaned against it. Every few minutes a jet would take off and the floor and window would shake precariously. Outside, it rained lightly, drops occassionally flecking on the glass, which was perceptibly cool. Inside, the milling throngs of people arrived, grimacing at the weather or a rough flight; they left, shuffling their way down the covered walkway to the plane that would take them from here. Men and women, children crying or pointing excitedly; older people pushed along in wheelchairs by tireless skycaps who comforted them unceasingly. This place was not just a hub for some planes- it was a hub of humanity, a place where all could come together and, for a moment, revel in that sense of adventure that dwells deep within each of us.

And, best of all, we were here together, on a grand adventure. Your bright peacoat was wrapped tightly around you, matching your slip-on shoes; it was a bit cold; I guess the air conditioning hadn't been shut off despite the change in the weather. I started to take off my coat to give to you right when we were called for boarding. Everyone jumped up and made their way down to the plane. A blast of the chill air from outside hit us as we stepped inside the aircraft and made our way to our seats.

And before I realized it, we were aloft, and I turned to see that you were asleep. I guess you were more tired than you realized. And I guess I was, too, because the next thing I remember was the wheels touching down. Isn't it funny how everyone jumps up as soon as you start making your way to the gate? Well, we all got off the plane in one piece and went down to get our luggage.

The conveyer belt jerked to life and bags started snaking their way around slowly. You pulled off a large green suitcase, and I looked to see if my luggage was near yours. But it wasn't. And as you turned away, off to your real life, off to the life that didn't include me, and never had, I stopped to watch you go, the edges of your coat whipping around. And you passed through the sliding glass doors of the airport.

Outside, the sun was just a crescent above the horizon.