First full day in ATL.
The bustling metropolis of travelers hums with the distinct tone of the usual. Multi colored linoleum disguised as marble make intricate circular patterns of maroon and black that go largely unnoticed by passengers searching for their gates to anywhere. The air is filled with cinn-a-bun breezes and wiffs of passing phone conversations dying with the morning light. Click-clak goes the woman in business attire and heels.
The airport, however, gives birth to a rare yet constant breed of individual, those who wait and watch. Well ahead of schedule and lacking direction these people blink with indifference and observe with a dull scrutiny. Their eyes chase beautiful women, plentiful plates, and loudspeaker announcements. Promotions and signs scream at their clam faces, but still they sit. Humble and deep in thought, they have no use for their phones and meaningless chat. They have a minute to themselves. Dressed in your everyday, cross legged and cross armed, they watch me watch them. We share the same fate of nothingness. At least for now.
Soon a boarding announcement, next a seat, before long a destination, maybe a hug or a handshake, lastly the deep breath of arrival. But while we wait we hold our lungs and our thoughts of the professional and bask in the personal. The bright and neglected thoughts of what comprises our hearts and souls. Fuck our non existent iPods or our lack of music taste altogether, we have ourselves and that is surely enough to pass the time. Thumbs twiddle, toes tap, the clock clicks, the airport bustles along and we see it all. Broadway on the runway minus the theatrics. MMM cinn-a-buns.