My connecting flight back home to Boston has been cancelled. So now I have a six hour layover in Detroit. Weirdly enough I don't mind too much even though I am going to be so tired by the time I get back home.
The sky is a pebbled-grey outside and I can see planes coming in and taking off. I'm having some chips and salsa, drinking a giant frozen margarita and trying to slough off the stress of the last few days.
Like a snake, in reverse, going back into its skin, I feel the frozen margarita slide down my throat. Coolness left behind and the stirring of something close to relaxation sliding down my body. It feels good, this gash of empty time. No one to look after, nothing else to do...hey, I'm trapped in an airport....I *can't* do anything.
It's a gift sometimes, these little inconveniences of time. Time is a precious commodity to be hoarded. I peek at the clock on my computer and count down the four hours left before I have to re-enter the world again. And I'll be ready.