The child smiles at me,
I smile at him —
His mother smiles, too,
And all is well
The other three-hundred thousand
Travelers behind me not noticing —
Her husband comes
A sister, too —
And the child finds his home amid
These very strange
Today’s post was supposed to be coming to you from the Arizona desert, but instead, I’m stuck at the Atlanta Airport.
For, oh, twelve hours longer than I was planning.
However, a long wait at an airport like this one is a little like spending a day at a mall. It could be worse. Much worse.
I typically am not much a “people-watcher”, at least as that is defined where I live. People-watchers are far more critical than I am, for one. “People-watchers” might find people who are dressed oddly…
… like I often am …
… and laugh at them. I’m more the type who looks at thousands of passers-by and thinks, “Wow. This many people find strength to get out of bed in the morning and brave life. Amazing.”
Flashback: (Me, age 18, reading a college catalog) “How come they have a Dramatic Arts Major, but not a Melodramatic Arts Major? I could ace that!”
Along with having non-sequitur flashbacks, I’m actually working while I’m here at the airport. I’m also listening to a TV show, texting my wife, and writing this blog post. I plan on eating a couple of meals later, taking a long walk around the many concourses, riding the train, and perhaps seeing if I can organize a flash mob to do a KC and the Sunshine Band medley.
Keep it comin’, love, indeed.
This is a picture of me from a couple of days ago.
I haven’t used a razor now since September 3rd. I am not, in doing this, making any kind of political statement or raising any money for charity. I have, however, saved money on razors and shaving cream.
So I can spend it at the Atlanta Airport.