Emmy sent me a link last night to this strange and wonderful video by one of my most favorite bands. I just watched it again in the Indianapolis airport, which is currently crowded with Army reservists in fatigues, crewcuts, and sand-colored boots eating breakfasts from McDonald's. I want to ask one of them where they are headed but I won't; I'll just worry about their fates from the steel and glass sterility of this shiny new airport.
I'm off to NYC today for Marybeth and Cy's wedding and wedding-associated activities. I've been looking forward to this for ages but right now I am so perfectly comfortable and calm that I feel little of the excitement I expected. Such is the effect airports have on me. Give me some cavernous lobbies with windows onto runways, bad art mixed with surprisingly good art, coffee, a scone, and a few minutes to browse the magazines, and I'm happy as a clam. At least I am until I get on one of those infernal flying machines.
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