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Coming to you from DFW airport, where I’m waiting for my delayed flight, now scheduled to leave at half past midnight.
Most of the gates are deserted, but the Albuquerque passengers are huddled here at A35. Passengers move slowly and speak quietly in late-night airports. Maintenance staff swab floors, clang gates shut over eateries.
A lively father and son walk by, the wheels of a roll aboard like an engine powering their fast walk. They’re conspicuous, walking so fast and speaking at normal volume.
Here are some other sounds:
The click of a woman’s cane on the terrazzo-tile floor.
The crunching thud of what’s probably a janitor’s wheelie bin.
Coughs, mostly suppressed.
The mayor on the intercom, announcing his pride in Dallas.
The other mayor, announcing her pride in Fort Worth.
The distant fat clink of glassware.
Uneven, limping steps.
The swish of backpack against jacket as it’s hefted up.
The whirr of the electric cart. Nobody is riding on it.
The gulp of a swallow from a water bottle.
Laughter from the jet bridge. “Let’s get out of here.”
They’re oblivious of us, the dull waiting herd, laughing as they head for the train home.
I wouldn't miss all of these airport sounds and rites of passage. They make up a scenario of sound that marks time spent in what adds up to accomplishments. Thanks for helping me remember.
Time is a precious gift if not waisted while waiting. Thanks Allegra