Woes of the Traveler

It has now officially been seven hours since I arrived at SFO. My original flight was scheduled to depart at 10:55AM. After that flight was canceled, I was placed in the standby carousel. Round and round we go, from gate to gate, going this next flight is the one we'll finally get on.

I'm only going to LA. I could drive there in less time than it is taking me to fly there today. I've drained and recharged my cell phone twice. I've stood in line after line and somehow still managed to keep my "please" and "thank you" intact. I feel bad for the service workers who must endure the impatience and perhaps even some verbal abuse from the hundreds of people who have had their flights canceled today.

The airport is an alternate universe. You can sit in the same spot all day and hear five different languages spoken. There are no street fights or screaming matches. People typically don't randomly sit down in the seat right next to you and start breaking the ice with small talk. I feel much more connected to people when I'm at the airport. We don't speak much, but were all united by a common goal. We're all going somewhere. Being in transit isn't fun to me necessarily. I just like the people watching. If much rather be in my Hollywood hotel room than sitting in this damn airport. There's only one more flight to LA tonight after this one. Let's hope I don't find myself returning home tonight only to do it all over again tomorrow for a one-night excursion.

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