Thursday, June 24, 2010
Walking at a brisk pace while toting my suitcase and handbag, I follow the signs for Concourse C. Elusive, mysterious, Concourse C. More gates go by, more signs point the way, but my destination never arrives. By now, I have seen half of this never-ending hallway. I decide to take a shortcut; hop on the express train that runs along the ceiling. As I settle into my seat, I realize I am doing something wrong. Up here, there are no signs for C. I trek back another half-length of and realize I diverged from my path at exactly the wrong time. Surrounded by trickling water fountains and fast food restaurants, the gaping maw of the underground tunnel, it’s open throat emitting a simultaneously disconcerting yet somehow energizing pale blue light, stands before me leading the way to my so-coveted destination. I descend. Emerging from the azure ambiance, I see the way. I rise quickly, aided by mechanized steps, to my loft in the sky.