Galen looked down at the lights of the airport, the only bright spot in the pitch black desert. This was the last fortress they had to capture to make their victory complete, but it would be the most difficult.
Liminal space, threshold- comings, yes, sweet cummings sort of twisted turns, but goings too, and trusting that their echo will be enough to let a squawking mind tweet and toddle in the cardboard world.
I went to the airport yesterday. dad took me. he wore his cowoy boots with steel toes. do you know what that means? cant get through security if you are wearing steal toed boots. too hard to take off. oh well. i’ll sit there waiting by myself…13 years old. thanks dad.
“It’s kind of like getting lost all over again, isn’t it?”
She had to ask as she pulled me away.
She always has to ask, always has to pull.
Even across the country there she is.
Asking and pulling and demanding.
But what would I do if she ever stopped?
There’s a ticket in my name and a schedule to keep.
I arrive at the airport, dragging my luggage behind me. I’m running late. The line for security is long and inching forward slowly. Panic and anxiety is all that runs through my mind. Will I make it? What am I supposed to do if I miss my flight? Do I have to buy a completely new ticket? The uncertainty drives me crazy.
They’re not quite sure what to do after the twenty minute drive to the airport. He helps her unload her luggage from the trunk of his hybrid and they stand there, hands in their pockets, staring at her luggage and his car and sneaking quick glances at each other.
“I should really go,” she says, fiddling with the tassels on her purse. “It’s been… it’s been nice.” She manages a quick smile before slinging her carry-on over her shoulder and tugging at the grey rolling suitcase.
“Here,” he says, “I’ll help.” He doesn’t want to say goodbye. And even though this is just a few more minutes, it’s still time he’s with her, time before the instant they have to say goodbye. They walk to the check-in counter in silence and when she receives her boarding pass, he knows it’s time. “So this is it.” He scuffs his feet on the beige and grey tiled floor.
“Yes.”
“Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye.” She begins the walk toward the security check, heels clicking on the tiles and echoing off the walls.
“Wait, I–” he calls after her, “I–” A smile forms on her face as if she knows what he wants to say but can’t. “Have a good trip,” he blurts out, then immediately turns away and walks through the doors back to his car.
I was stuck in the airport on a two hair delay. Stuck between tired mothers with hyper children, and overweight men trying to sit still I could not fathom a worse place to be. Everything was so rush, rush, rush. Either going somewhere or returning somewhere, like this air I was breathing had only the purpose of filling space before a new destination.
Her breath escaped in small gasps as she turned corner after corner. She rushed to the gate, but it was too late- the doors were closed. It left the ground- it was in the air. She missed it. Slowly, she sank into her knees and let one single tear trail down her face-
She was still there on solid earth, and her love would be waiting for no one.
“What do you mean you’re afraid of airports? Like flying?” she asks.
“No,” he says. “The flying I can do. It’s all that comes before it. Packing. Making sure I don’t forget anything. Then waking up to make that two hour window before the flight. Dealing with the person at the ticket counter. Going through security is another circle of hell entirely.”
“Well, now you don’t have to travel alone.” Her fingers snake through his. “You got me.”
She kisses him then, less to reassure him, more to stop him from talking about it anymore.
She stood waiting, weight shifting from foot to foot. “She won’t be here… she won’t,” the woman mumbled to herself while she checked her watch, sweat beading on her hairline.
“nonononono” janie ran down the hallways, her suitcase bumping around behind her
“im gonna be laaaate” she hurried through the croud, angering people as she pushed by
she continued pushing and running when *bam* she ran straight into someone
they both fell to the floor with a grunt
I was at the airport, when I saw his smile his deep blue eyes, looking right into my eyes, little I knew then that everything was going to go so perfect and so wrong at the same time
I checked my watch. Again.
Fuck I was nervous. I couldnt’t stand flying. Can’t stand it all.
Ugh. I Could taste this morning’s bagel making it’s way back up at the back of my throat.
Disgusting.
Airport food is the worst.
She sat patiently as she waited to see him. It had been seven months and her heart was bursting at the seems as she watched the planes arriving at the airport knowing her husband to be would be here soon.
i lost my mind at the airport. somewhere behind the seats. maybe i put it underneath the tray that held my ale. or somewhere in the magazine. time flies without your mind.
i lost my mind at the airport. somewhere behind the seats. maybe i put it underneath the tray that held my ale. or somewhere in the magazine. oh how time flies without your mind.
I love airports. I love to travel. Airports are hard to be in. There is a lot of people. It is very hectic. You can get lost in airports really easy. I dislike them, a lot of people do. Airports are sometimes huge and sometimes small.
She didn’t think there would be tears, having said all of their goodbyes at home, but she was mistaken. They stood next to each other uneasily, awkward and silent, knowing it was time at last for them to part ways, but reluctant all the same. “You’ll do great,” she said at last, flashing him a smile under her tears. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, dragging her in for one last hug. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but even on the drive home she swore she’d heard him whisper it into her hair; those three little words she’d always wanted to hear.
I am waiting at the baggage claim for a green suitcase with you in it, with your baby clothes still folded with neat creases and your teddy bear, coming apart at the seams, and a sketchbook full of people with crayon grins and lopsided eyes. I am waiting for a fraying hair ribbon in golden curls. I am waiting for a pink-lipped smile and the way you laughed. I am waiting for a memory that I bundled in bubble wrap and shipped across the world.
(I will wait until nightfall, until they turn out the lights and leave me in the green glow of the exit signs).
The teenage girl runs through the airport halls, desperately trying to find him. Conversations buzzed around her and the people walked into her as she ran, or did she run into them?
“Where are you?” she screams, and her cries of desperation are met with his whisper in her ear.
“Right beside you.” at his words she turns to face him, the very man who had saved her life earlier that day.
“You followed me,”
“Of course, I always follows jumpers,”
“Jumpers?” she questions him. How could he possibly know her deepest secret?
Bustling busboys and barhopping bastards. The bars at airports are a thing to behold: the classy, the carefree, the caustic, And me, the one quietly drinking to stop the nagging fear.
He was standing there at the terminal in the airport, watching as the one person he loved most flew off into the vast sky, leaving him behind. “It’s only for a year. I have to do this,” is what she had said to him about her random decision to go to Brazil. “Well, I’ll be here waiting when you get back. I love you so much.” When in reality, what he wantd to say was, “What if you change? What if you don’t want to come back? What if you no longer love me…”
In the airport I saw you for the very first time and knew you had to be the one I have spent so long talking to without even knowing it. People everywhere and things to being said that just shouldn’t matter but a sort of love that can’t be described. Hun, I’ve reduced to using your vernacular, to saying things that only you could ever understand. And really, really, more than anything, I will never be more happy than I will be in that moment, should the two of us ever create it.
The airport shifted under him, rocking with the explosions. He stumbled, falling painfully onto one of the molded chairs in the lobby. Dust rained from the ceiling. There wasn’t much time before the entire structure gave out.
The airport became my home away from home. Snow pelted the city, ice coated planes faster than it could be lifted. Flight cancellation followed with more cancellations. Delays into hours.
Three days later I was still there.
i made my way to the airport, thinking about all that had happened. about all the people i let down, and about all that i have lost by refusing to take my chances
Many people go to airports every once in a while. They lose their kids, they lose their luggage. But, they find their identity. they find out where they want to go. They find out how big their dreams are, and how much they want to fly to somewhere new and forget their old identity and create a new one. Airports are new beginnings.
I stopped by one of the little souvenir shops at the airport in order to pick up a specific bag of chocolates. Otis had always liked the brand, and it was nearly impossible to find anywhere else except in a cold, harsh terminal with thousands of frazzled customers dragging suitcases and crying children (perhaps crying children tucked in suitcases as well) trying to head toward their respective gates. I walked up to the counter and forked out five dollars for the candy, the cashier eyeing me intently.
He sat there with his luggage thinking about all the times they spent together. He smiled. She was always the one for him. How could he forget her. how could anybody forget her. he waited. he hoped she would come. She never came. He figured it was over.
Airports are bubbles where you can reinvent your identity. They are microcosms within the world, shut out from everywhere else even while they transport you just about everywhere else. You are nowhere and you are everywhere.
there was a time i thought that i loved to fly. there was a time that i was fearless. come to think about it, i was much happier living without a care. sometimes, i feel as though i shall return to that blissful state. become who i really want to become.
aeroporto
Galen looked down at the lights of the airport, the only bright spot in the pitch black desert. This was the last fortress they had to capture to make their victory complete, but it would be the most difficult.
Liminal space, threshold- comings, yes, sweet cummings sort of twisted turns, but goings too, and trusting that their echo will be enough to let a squawking mind tweet and toddle in the cardboard world.
That took place years ago…but I guess that kind of “love” and caring is on my mind…
I went to the airport yesterday. dad took me. he wore his cowoy boots with steel toes. do you know what that means? cant get through security if you are wearing steal toed boots. too hard to take off. oh well. i’ll sit there waiting by myself…13 years old. thanks dad.
“It’s kind of like getting lost all over again, isn’t it?”
She had to ask as she pulled me away.
She always has to ask, always has to pull.
Even across the country there she is.
Asking and pulling and demanding.
But what would I do if she ever stopped?
There’s a ticket in my name and a schedule to keep.
I arrive at the airport, dragging my luggage behind me. I’m running late. The line for security is long and inching forward slowly. Panic and anxiety is all that runs through my mind. Will I make it? What am I supposed to do if I miss my flight? Do I have to buy a completely new ticket? The uncertainty drives me crazy.
They’re not quite sure what to do after the twenty minute drive to the airport. He helps her unload her luggage from the trunk of his hybrid and they stand there, hands in their pockets, staring at her luggage and his car and sneaking quick glances at each other.
“I should really go,” she says, fiddling with the tassels on her purse. “It’s been… it’s been nice.” She manages a quick smile before slinging her carry-on over her shoulder and tugging at the grey rolling suitcase.
“Here,” he says, “I’ll help.” He doesn’t want to say goodbye. And even though this is just a few more minutes, it’s still time he’s with her, time before the instant they have to say goodbye. They walk to the check-in counter in silence and when she receives her boarding pass, he knows it’s time. “So this is it.” He scuffs his feet on the beige and grey tiled floor.
“Yes.”
“Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye.” She begins the walk toward the security check, heels clicking on the tiles and echoing off the walls.
“Wait, I–” he calls after her, “I–” A smile forms on her face as if she knows what he wants to say but can’t. “Have a good trip,” he blurts out, then immediately turns away and walks through the doors back to his car.
I was stuck in the airport on a two hair delay. Stuck between tired mothers with hyper children, and overweight men trying to sit still I could not fathom a worse place to be. Everything was so rush, rush, rush. Either going somewhere or returning somewhere, like this air I was breathing had only the purpose of filling space before a new destination.
Her breath escaped in small gasps as she turned corner after corner. She rushed to the gate, but it was too late- the doors were closed. It left the ground- it was in the air. She missed it. Slowly, she sank into her knees and let one single tear trail down her face-
She was still there on solid earth, and her love would be waiting for no one.
“What do you mean you’re afraid of airports? Like flying?” she asks.
“No,” he says. “The flying I can do. It’s all that comes before it. Packing. Making sure I don’t forget anything. Then waking up to make that two hour window before the flight. Dealing with the person at the ticket counter. Going through security is another circle of hell entirely.”
“Well, now you don’t have to travel alone.” Her fingers snake through his. “You got me.”
She kisses him then, less to reassure him, more to stop him from talking about it anymore.
She stood waiting, weight shifting from foot to foot. “She won’t be here… she won’t,” the woman mumbled to herself while she checked her watch, sweat beading on her hairline.
“nonononono” janie ran down the hallways, her suitcase bumping around behind her
“im gonna be laaaate” she hurried through the croud, angering people as she pushed by
she continued pushing and running when *bam* she ran straight into someone
they both fell to the floor with a grunt
I was at the airport, when I saw his smile his deep blue eyes, looking right into my eyes, little I knew then that everything was going to go so perfect and so wrong at the same time
he left me
untouched
wanting his kiss for one more time
there I stood idle in the airport
I will miss your love
I will miss you
I checked my watch. Again.
Fuck I was nervous. I couldnt’t stand flying. Can’t stand it all.
Ugh. I Could taste this morning’s bagel making it’s way back up at the back of my throat.
Disgusting.
Airport food is the worst.
She sat patiently as she waited to see him. It had been seven months and her heart was bursting at the seems as she watched the planes arriving at the airport knowing her husband to be would be here soon.
i lost my mind at the airport. somewhere behind the seats. maybe i put it underneath the tray that held my ale. or somewhere in the magazine. time flies without your mind.
i lost my mind at the airport. somewhere behind the seats. maybe i put it underneath the tray that held my ale. or somewhere in the magazine. oh how time flies without your mind.
I love airports. I love to travel. Airports are hard to be in. There is a lot of people. It is very hectic. You can get lost in airports really easy. I dislike them, a lot of people do. Airports are sometimes huge and sometimes small.
we eat dinner there
gristly meat patties and metallic cola
we hardly taste it through our thoughts
he clutches a bouquet of wildfires in one fist
and my hand in the other
his eyebrows are drawn together anxiously
and then we see it
twinkling lights marking our own reflections in glossy black glass
it’s the plane touching down
she made it home
She didn’t think there would be tears, having said all of their goodbyes at home, but she was mistaken. They stood next to each other uneasily, awkward and silent, knowing it was time at last for them to part ways, but reluctant all the same. “You’ll do great,” she said at last, flashing him a smile under her tears. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, dragging her in for one last hug. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but even on the drive home she swore she’d heard him whisper it into her hair; those three little words she’d always wanted to hear.
I am waiting at the baggage claim for a green suitcase with you in it, with your baby clothes still folded with neat creases and your teddy bear, coming apart at the seams, and a sketchbook full of people with crayon grins and lopsided eyes. I am waiting for a fraying hair ribbon in golden curls. I am waiting for a pink-lipped smile and the way you laughed. I am waiting for a memory that I bundled in bubble wrap and shipped across the world.
(I will wait until nightfall, until they turn out the lights and leave me in the green glow of the exit signs).
The teenage girl runs through the airport halls, desperately trying to find him. Conversations buzzed around her and the people walked into her as she ran, or did she run into them?
“Where are you?” she screams, and her cries of desperation are met with his whisper in her ear.
“Right beside you.” at his words she turns to face him, the very man who had saved her life earlier that day.
“You followed me,”
“Of course, I always follows jumpers,”
“Jumpers?” she questions him. How could he possibly know her deepest secret?
Bustling busboys and barhopping bastards. The bars at airports are a thing to behold: the classy, the carefree, the caustic, And me, the one quietly drinking to stop the nagging fear.
He was standing there at the terminal in the airport, watching as the one person he loved most flew off into the vast sky, leaving him behind. “It’s only for a year. I have to do this,” is what she had said to him about her random decision to go to Brazil. “Well, I’ll be here waiting when you get back. I love you so much.” When in reality, what he wantd to say was, “What if you change? What if you don’t want to come back? What if you no longer love me…”
In the airport I saw you for the very first time and knew you had to be the one I have spent so long talking to without even knowing it. People everywhere and things to being said that just shouldn’t matter but a sort of love that can’t be described. Hun, I’ve reduced to using your vernacular, to saying things that only you could ever understand. And really, really, more than anything, I will never be more happy than I will be in that moment, should the two of us ever create it.
The airport shifted under him, rocking with the explosions. He stumbled, falling painfully onto one of the molded chairs in the lobby. Dust rained from the ceiling. There wasn’t much time before the entire structure gave out.
The airport became my home away from home. Snow pelted the city, ice coated planes faster than it could be lifted. Flight cancellation followed with more cancellations. Delays into hours.
Three days later I was still there.
The airport became my home away from home.
Snow pelted the city; ice coated planes faster than it could be scraped off. Flight cancellation followed with more cancellations. Delays into hours.
Three days later I was still there.
“It’s a place for coming and going.
For fresh starts and sorry ends.
For hope and despair.
For happiness and anticipation.”
Janine smiled.
I scoffed. “The last time I rode on a plane I pissed myself out of fear.”
i made my way to the airport, thinking about all that had happened. about all the people i let down, and about all that i have lost by refusing to take my chances
Many people go to airports every once in a while. They lose their kids, they lose their luggage. But, they find their identity. they find out where they want to go. They find out how big their dreams are, and how much they want to fly to somewhere new and forget their old identity and create a new one. Airports are new beginnings.
I stopped by one of the little souvenir shops at the airport in order to pick up a specific bag of chocolates. Otis had always liked the brand, and it was nearly impossible to find anywhere else except in a cold, harsh terminal with thousands of frazzled customers dragging suitcases and crying children (perhaps crying children tucked in suitcases as well) trying to head toward their respective gates. I walked up to the counter and forked out five dollars for the candy, the cashier eyeing me intently.
He sat there with his luggage thinking about all the times they spent together. He smiled. She was always the one for him. How could he forget her. how could anybody forget her. he waited. he hoped she would come. She never came. He figured it was over.
Airports are bubbles where you can reinvent your identity. They are microcosms within the world, shut out from everywhere else even while they transport you just about everywhere else. You are nowhere and you are everywhere.
there was a time i thought that i loved to fly. there was a time that i was fearless. come to think about it, i was much happier living without a care. sometimes, i feel as though i shall return to that blissful state. become who i really want to become.
OH the faces of an airport. On the walls, walking, in the sculptures, on screens and posters.
Airport security has drastically changed in the years since the war
i went to the airport