Killing Time at the Airport: Everyday Magic, Day 653

Usually, when I click on the link to add a new post, I have that post pretty much outlined in my mind. Not today though as I wait at Kansas City International airport for another 15 minutes or so until I get on a plane and head to Orlando, land of swamps, Mickey & Minnie Mouse, many beige-colored housing developments and, best of all, my sisters.

So here we are killing time. To my left, people line up to buy far-too-ripe bananas or donuts. To my right, a bright blue jet stares hard through the window. Above is the every-present lightly-blaring television. Behind is a family arguing over how the teenage sons should stop playing on their phones and go get a yogurt or something for the flight. The sky is peaceful and overcast. The temperature is chillingly (as in “climate change is real”) warm, and I believe I have not forgotten anything terribly significant.

Airport time is suspended time, the space between places. It’s a little like being nowhere while seeing all kinds of people. Toddlers have a hard time stepping out of the way of elders with speedy walkers. A man pushes hard on a stroller full of giant carry-ons. The tall woman with beautiful brown boots pushes her boyfriend in his wheelchair while balancing a large purse and two carry-ons.

All is quiet and all is about to change. Like right now when I was just called to board.