This is the middle, but I have just gone through ‘airport security’. Since I had a diplomatic passport, I got to do the same security as flight attendants, which is to say no security. I walked through a hallway with lots of rooms off to the side. There was a man playing his saxophone in one of the rooms, and there was a family looking through their own bags in there. It seemed to be honor system method of declaring your items. I tried to remember if I had any prohibited items, but I didn’t think so.
Finally I got to the end of the grey, carpeted hallway, where two women were casually chatting at the ticket counter. They smiled and joked with me a little, and then printed my ticket. I gave her my passport, and she got my ticket ready. I had just cut my hair from just below my ears to just above my ears in the haircut Anna was describing to me yesterday, so I don’t look anything like my photo (again). They tell me that I have to take this certain tollbridge when I am in Albany, to prove that’s where I am going. I am not really listening, because I ‘m not that in control of where I’m going, since I’m traveling with my brother and his rich friend and his rich friend’s family.
I agreed to go after Mom asked me if I’d like to. We had been running around this enormous mansion and talking, and discussing retirement options. She said she would like to buy a house somewhere and be able to go to it. It sounded like she wantd an enormous house, but I was pushing for a small house somewhere cool, and to use the money for plane tickets to visit it. The reason I agreed to go to this trip with my brother and his friend is because I am trying this habit of saying “yes” to everything, and they asked me. I have this idea that the house I’m going to is huge and so I won’t actually have to interact with anyone. I am planning on laying in bed, and reading “Da Vinci Code” all day.
Anyway, so I am in the airport terminal (except it’s actually a train station, because we’re taking the train), and I see the family I’m traveling with. They’re laughing and smiling and walking switfly towards the gate door. I am sort of slowly trying to catch up with them, but I figure they’ll wait for me since I am traveling with them, but we haven’t met up yet. They head into this restaurant, which is closed, and get handed a bottle of water from behind the register. I am about 20 steps behind him, pulling my rolley suitcase. The father is always at such an angle to me that I can’t see his face. I reflect somewhat annoyedly that they should perhaps be more concerned about my whereabouts, and they’re lucky I am so good at doing things and have met them here where I was supposed to.
There are lots of people in this station, now, who went through regular security. For some reason dance is on my mind a lot, and I think about a few of these people as dancers. Lots of red hair.
