Thursday, April 21, 2016

Chicago Airport

Sitting in terminal K.

The place is a city in and of itself. Want a burrito? Chinese Food? Mickey D's?

There's a bookstore and a cold stone creamery.

People from every continent are represented...walking signs of prejudice or hate.

And we all know how great an airport terminal is to just people watch.

I listened to a Dad and his son talk about the Cubbies.

This is the year.

The kid has no idea what it has felt like not to win...or the curse of the bully goat.

A woman walking two steps in front of me abruptly changed her mind about the direction she was going and turned straight into me.

She apologized.

I grunted.

Looking for a core to plug in my phone so it could recharge for the rest of the trip.

Wondering how I'd recharge.

I took some shots in the hip that clouded my mind and made sleep impossible. The hip feels better but I could be a member of the cast of the walking dead.

They are making the gate announcements.

Soon they'll be telling me how to operate the seatbelt.

"Fly safe," everyone always says.

I have no control.

Just hope I don't have to figure out the oxygen mask. I'm a little challenged on the mechanical side.

Trust that the travel will be safe.

Uh-oh, back to people watching:

There's a guy eating a burrito that's as big as a small puppy.

That would be me.

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