Concourse B

Is there a lonelier place in the world than an airport? Considering that I typically view writing as the absolute last resort when there’s no one to talk to, I must be desperately lonely, sitting here at The Great American Bagel & Bakery, an amazingly overpriced carbohydrate café in Concourse B of the Charlotte International Airport.

There’s something tragic about thousands of people, weighed down by a week’s worth of personal belongings, all trapped together in a place where they don’t want to be.

Except for the frizzy-haired children, whirling dervishly on the vast expanse of gray carpet, no one really looks happy. But shouldn’t they be? I just watched a hundred or so people board a plane for Cancún, and judging by the gaudy floral prints, huaraches, and sundresses, they were headed to Mexico not for business, but for pleasure.

I wanted to shake the young women, obviously honeymooners and romantic getaway-ers, who turned away from their husbands to read Us, Allure, and People. And, by the way, they even looked bored with their magazines. Shouldn’t they be filled with anticipation, whispering to themselves about their upcoming scuba adventures? Or poring together over travel guides? Or marveling at the miracle of flight as planes take off every few minutes?

But then I realized that they viewed this time as a waiting period, not to be enjoyed, but to be endured. And, well, let’s just say that I’ve been there before, so I’m probably not in a position to be shaking anyone for their foolishness. But it sure was a good reminder not to cut myself off from joy and anticipation and fun during those waiting periods. Because after all, waiting can be just as much a part of the journey as the flight itself—it just depends what you do with it. I sure don’t want to be reading People. I’d rather be pressed up against the huge windows, watching the planes take off.

Note: this was written yesterday; just didn't get a chance to post 'til today.