Terminal

Countless lost hours passed in airport terminals. Delays and poor scheduling are usually the culprit. These eyes are too tired to read, so they turn to people. I watch them and imagine:

The pink haired young woman who has mutilated herself with a multitude of facial piercings and tattoo’s, seems sweet. She makes eye contact and responds politely when spoken to. I think of “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” and hope her life is not parallel.

The business man with a permanent scowl on his face. I imagine his stocks are doing well, but the money isn’t making him happy. Karma?

The toddler crawling on the filthy floor. His distracted mom holds the leash connecting them. She, I think is too tired to be aware of the tableau she presents.

The college kids in uniforms of leggings and sweat shirts are on their way home, soon to discover their bedrooms now contain a full set of weights and an elliptical machine, no bed . . .”Mom!”

The hoochie mama also in leggings, but she pairs them with 6″ platform shoes and a midriff. Perhaps a drag queen going to work.

The church groups in their matching t-shirts, someone can not find their passport.

There are the soldiers who appear to be 12 years old. Someone’s children.

The happy couples in love. Indifferent couples. Couples who barely tolerate each other’s company.

The drunks going on a fishing weekend with their buddies.

The other drunks going to bachelor or bachelorette party in Vegas.

The unaccompanied minors, products of divorce.

The shameful woman with too much money, who abuses the Americans with Disabilities Act, by claiming that her purse dog is a service animal.

The young man with tubes attached, which give him the air that keeps him alive, and the drugs that keep life tolerable. His brothers are taking him home.

I wish I were going home.

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