Airport Musings

Some naff musings I found in a notebook while sorting through stuff. I wrote it in the Adelaide airport, a while ago now, waiting to fly back to Perth. It makes me laugh.
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Noone wants to be at an airport. They either want to be where they were, or where they're going. The anticipation of fun, exciting new adventures, reunions, or the return to everyday life casts a shadow over all thoughts. Taints all interactions. Or introspection for that matter.

She sits there awkwardly, twisted into the airport lounge chair, waiting for her departure. A travel bag, it's aluminium handle fully extended, sits in front of the chair next to her. A rigid travel companion contrasting her slumped stature. The Australian newspaper is spread out beside her, over three chairs. It's front pages consumed, she restlessly thumbs through the financial pages, then back to the front page. The sport section remains untouched. She uncrosses her legs, stretches and recrosses them. She doesn't want to be here either. She wants to be somewhere else, before she resorts to the sport's pages to distract her from the trial of waiting. She sits up suddenly and twists her head around looking for something. Nothing. She returns to the paper.

All time passes. Sometimes it crawls and sometimes its cruel in its swiftness. Remember your first day at school. What about your first kiss, your first day at work. Was it five years ago, ten, twenty or even thirty. I know its obvious. Everyone knows time passes but we rarely think about it. I have twenty minutes left before my plane boards. I can waste it with the best.

He stands at the internet terminal, a wry smile twisting the left side of his face. A typical IT boy probably. White undershirt with sensible short sleeved shirt over the top. Not that I can talk, I am of that ilk. His left foot taps - impatiently or to some unheard rhythm, its hard to tell. He starts typing, replying to the unseen sender, the smile is gone. He seems uncertain . An airport is no place to pen a quick reply. Too full of emotions. His travel companion comes up to him, speaks and then moves to another seat. He returns his concentration to the screen in front of him. He starts to type but stops, steps back and stretches, his arms fully extended resting either side of the terminal. The wry smile returns and he begins typing furiously. Perhaps his time here won't be wasted.