Most of this was written while I waited for my flight:
Today, for whatever reason, my flight to Chicago from Newark is to depart from the part of the terminal where many international flights also depart. This made for longer scrutiny of my ID picture at security (can I really be as old as I claim?), more interesting people watching, announcements in different languages, and, perhaps incidentally, dirtier bathrooms. It reminds me of how long it has been since I actually flew internationally. I haven't been to Prague to visit the Polaks for six and a half years. I wish this weren't the case.
I sit at Gate 70 to write this, eavesdropping on the conversation carried on beside me in thick Chicago accents by two ladies returning from a vacation in Europe. Across from me, at Gate 71, people are lining up to board a plane bound for Milan. With extra time on my hands before settling to wait at the gate, I had wandered around watching the people flying to places I'd like to visit some day - Barcelona, Dublin, Berlin, Brussels, Paris. I wonder what country those women had visited.
Next to me, one of the women has called family in IL to get the low down on her cat's behavior in her absence. Rumor had the cat had been crying for her and not eating. She talks to her for a few moments, "I'll be home soon." The truth is the cat had only been attacking Aunt Flu's feet. "That's right; I told her to."
Post-flight
Seasonal allergies have been an affliction of late, so I was sadly congested when I flew. This wasn't much of a problem until the descent began. I am reminded to be thankful that I don't live with chronic pain. When your head feels like Jael is driving a tent peg into it, it's hard to think of anything else.
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