Airports’ conversations #sol Tuesday

Richmond airport 9:30 am

—Hey Molly make sure they send me the right one.

—…

—You will see it on the email they sent this morning. I just forwarded it.

—…

—I sent my comments. Go to Concatenate America first dot com. Other than that, I think we’re in really good shape.

—…

—When do you think you will have the first draft to reveal?

—…

—If it’s not a big lift, Wednesday would be great.

—…

—Thank you all for your hard work. I’m going to drop off.

Business phone conversations at the airport are boring. Nothing juicy that I can hang from. Maybe the fact that Molly’s life is so messed up at this time that having the draft being”revealed” on Wednesday is a big lift.

Philly’s airport 11:35 am

I’m leaning forward to listening to conversations. It’s hard. Everybody is so quiet. I should change sits to get a better story. Too many lonely travelers glued to their silence phones. No spoken words besides the one from the airport speakers announcing flights departures, and mandatory reminders. Will I have time to post this on Tuesday? I’m one of those lonely travelers glued to the phone.

Oh no! One of the announcements  is that my flight is running late. I hope it doesn’t mess up my connection in L.A. Or is it groundhog day?

In front of me is a couple in their early seventies. She has short curly black gray hair. She is doing Sudokus while her husband is reading the newspaper. She wears glasses, so does he. Both are wearing grey jerseys and black pants. His hair is whiter. She is wearing black boots that go almost passed her knees. Her earrings are big round silver hula hoops and her neck is wrapped on a greyish white, black calypso scarf. In one of their unzipped bags I see two bananas floating among some paperwork. The woman started to talk to the neighboring couple. They are sharing horror stories about delayed airplanes. Very uplifting.

The waiting area is getting packed. Some excited faces are turning unhappy. It’s 12:01 and our airplane hasn’t showed up yet. Our scheduled  flight is at 12:35. Two old women are looking at their wrist watches while young people are frantically texting.

12:10 My plane arrived. It’s a question of unloading the passengers from Charlottesville and I will be on my way in an already worn out warm seat. I hope it’s not in the very middle. I hate to feel trapped unable to look through the window or go to the bathroom as I wish on my will.

I better “drop off.” I might have to run to my next flight and won’t arrive before midnight EST to my final destination to get this unconscious flow of thoughts published. (Excuse my 27 words last sentence. Everything looks tighter on a phone.)