life done write

.One.
It’s that time again. The time for airplanes and escalators. Paying $4 for an ice cream and sitting in seats the exact width of your frame. The time for travel.

I love everything about it. I love airports—the flat, industrial carpeting; the children riding the moving sidewalks and laughing, wide eyed; the people watching. I try to see what everyone is reading in the airport. Even people who don’t like reading read in airports. In years past it’s been The Di Vinci Code, lots of John Grisham, Marley and Me, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell (which is very worth reading, in or out of an airport).

This year I see more iPods than books. But there are some books. I’m reading The Road. The man to my right is reading the Journal of Petroleum. I see Freakonomics. And The Lord of the Rings. The woman next to me is reading one of Dan Brown’s books. And there are three people across from me whose covers are obscured.

I also brought with me A Secret History.

.Two.
We were supposed to take off at 2:40. It is 4:12. And Chicago has grounded air traffic, due to freezing rain. When will we leave? Mystery.

Of course for a while this also involved a screaming baby. Excellent.

I’m praying very specifically. Give me less than half an hour.

.Three.
Someone in my row made a comment about trying to keep babies straight by asking “who do you look like?” I kept my mouth shut. But oh was I tempted. Small babies share more in the looks department with potatoes than their human parents.

Potatoes.

.Four.
With the many Target gift cards that I received for this year’s Christmas I have purchased iTunes gift cards. This means that my long wait at the airport is happily accompanied by new music that I purchased last night.

Plumb’s “Hang On” – Schuyler Fisk’s “Afterglow” ad “Miss You” – Ingrid Michaelson’s “Maybe”

And by people watching. Really the only things with the potential to annoy me are A. if we get grounded permanently or B. if I don’t get something to eat in the next hour. Hypoglycemia’s a bitch.

.Five.
“One more minute is one too long and I won’t forget it, the way you did me wrong…I need you like another broken heart and a hole in my head. I need you like a six foot grave and a high-speed train wreck. I bet you find it hard to believe, but I miss you like a bad disease.”-Miss You, Schuyler Fisk