an essay by Chris Hunt
First there’s the cramped aisle seat on the commuter. Knees aren’t meant to bend that direction. At least not for that long.
Then off the plane and into the airport. The rush. Harried faces counting gate numbers. Life becomes a watch face. Everybody has a smart phone at their ear, and looks of self-importance cross their faces.
Baggage claim is next – we stand around the carousel like a litter of puppies around a single food bowl, waiting nervously. They lost it. I just know it.