We were talking about airports over breakfast, my contribution to the conversation was how much I loved them. The transition, that period of being inbetween, of being somewhere but nowhere, the movement, the possibility, the endings and beginnings, I love being in the middle of it all. Good thing, my flight out of Bangalore was delayed, I arrived at 2am to find that my flight had been delayed until 8.30. Between my book, writing, music, daydreaming and people watching the time passed quickly.
It's a three+ hour drive to the airport from Mysore, my driver made it in just over two. He picked me up at midnight, yawned uncontrollably and eventually nodded off waking up only to my increasingly loud stammers of "um..um..UM...WHAT THE FUCK" as I watched the headlights of a large truck bear down on us. He'd drifted into oncoming traffic.
So, yeah, sitting for seven hours in the airport versus what might have happened? Absolutely. Yes please.
No comments:
Post a Comment