I’ve got one charge left. Only a few minutes of battery on this laptop, and a cacophony of thoughts to spew out before the screen goes black. I left my charger in the hotel room 3 hours away. Stupid. STUPID. But still, here we are. Type, type. Clickity clack.
I’m sitting in the airport in Nelson, New Zealand, and when I look around me, everyone is relaxed. “This is not how airports are supposed to work,” I say to myself. Airport security was an airline employee weighing my bag to see if I needed to check it or not. Her name was Glenda. She smiled at me. Thank you, Glenda.
A cool breeze blows through the terminal. Everything is fresh; the air is new. There is no recycled air here. The gate is a sliding glass door to a sidewalk that leads to a plane. Security is a room beside the gate where a guy is solving sodoku puzzles with a pencil that has one of those crazy rubber pencil toppers over the eraser. He probably doesn’t make mistakes. How could he? Everything seems right here.
Wise words from Frank Chimero.