I love airports. (I love lamp?)
I especially love an entire day of traveling and not having to talk to anyone, aside
from “excuse me” “pardon me” etc. Don’t get me wrong. I love those Dishwasher Pete moments too. Well, the successful ones, where you learn something about someone who arrives and departs your life a complete stranger, possibly gleaning a little self-learning in the process.
My favourite part of the day was sitting in the Rochester airport, facing out the window of Alphanumeric Terminal, with my back to my fellow passengers, listening to a Beirut song on low enough volume to make out the travel plans of some music (Eastman School of Music?) students who were flying into Atlanta, en route to Las Vegas, then driving to California. I don’t know why, or care why, but I’m glad I got to hear how.