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2004-02-19 - 10:47 p.m. -



i find myself becoming all too familiar with the subtle similarities of airplanes & the bureaucratic ballet of airports. familiarity breads contempt & i have grown contemptuous of business trips that serve only to wear the soul down.

seven hours in an airport will tire the body more than an equal amount of honest work. one transcends boredom & decays into a numb herd mentality infused with sporadic visits by police with bomb-sniffing dogs & the insistent speakers overhead.

Smoking is prohibited throughout the terminal area.

6:08pm. were i home now�
we would be finishing dinner & be discussing the evenings plans as our son watches Clean Sweep. perhaps he is watching my wife play computer games. perhaps we are on the floor building something out of legos.

i extinguish my cigarette & head back into the terminal for the tenth time.

7:04pm.
We are now boarding passengers in zones one through four. Passengers in zones one through four, welcome aboard.

bath time & he is doing what he can to avoid the inevitable. there will be brushing of teeth & toy boats & wash cloths & soap that smells like incense & the wonder of water swirling down the drain. more independent now, he will have a few minutes of quality time with his boats & bubbles before toweling & pajamas with dinosaurs on them.

7:28pm.
Flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff.

Mom is tucking you in with a story & songs. her evening mantra softly signals you to sleep�

Never forget that you are loved and wished for and wanted.

the same words every night drifting softly into your ears. this is beyond prayer� shorter than a haiku & larger than the combined capacity of three hearts. you will sleep soundly & safely as i fight off tears at 24,000 feet.