Greeting from the airport

The day finally arrived an I'm off, headed to the thriving European metropolis. I cannot believe that I'm finally on my way. The airport is a funny place, full of normal people off to experience new things or headed hope from their adventures, just waiting. You watch a gentleman walk rapidly down the fast walk, each step traveling him seven feet down the walk way instead of three or four. There is a guy sprawled across a whole row of waiting chairs, snoring quietly, perhaps he should have caught a few more winks last night. . . or perhaps not. The potted trees growing towards the sky lights look odd in their sterile environment, people passing them without giving them a glance; there is a constant whir of machinery running the escalators and fast walks. Every so often a voice from the loud speaker calls out a name or flight number, reminding every of flight times and gate numbers, eventually those announcements will be for me. Periodically, a plane alighst on the runway out my window, a reminder that the people around me are not here to stay, we really are all going somewhere, we will sit next to each other in a crowded plane for several hours and then each go on our own separate ways, nodding to the stewardesses as they welcome us to our arrival city, perhaps pausing to readjust our carry on luggage to rest more comfortably against our shoulders and backs. The in-between moments are good, a little pause to gather our wits about us before we dash off to our connecting flight or consult a city map to find out where we're going. Soon I will be on the other side of the big pond, exploring a new place, meeting new people, reconnecting with friends who have been gone for months. I can't wait.