Vantage point

A friend once said, "there's just something about airports, I love them." I wasn't sure if completely agreed with this sentiment, but nevertheless I registered his  words before the conversation transpired into something else.

As the gradual cold Scandinavian snap engulfs a city I find myself sat in the capitals airport. The place is brightly lit as though everything is in glorious HD. My watch is feeling strangely generous as I have plenty of time to kill. I walk for a few moments until I find somewhere to relax, I spot a few inviting chairs and accept the kind invitation. Perfect. Reclining on a comfortable chair watching as a plethora of people move to and fro before my eyes. Bags, trolleys, cases in tow. To a multitude of interesting destinations, one can only guess where. An older Italian couple converse near to me before the svelte lady wanders off.

For a person that loves people watching a busy airport has to rank extremely high up in the best possible places to partake in this un taxing sport. Usually, I would be hurtling through a busy airport, sweating profusely, berating myself, anxious about missing my flight. However, today with unusual ample time to spare I sit for a while sifting through my box of thoughts. I recall the delicious snack residing in my bag. After some moments of delightful pleasure I decide to saunter around the airport gazing at shops that I have no intention of going into. I can't deny that these shops are alluring, they look so shiny, so new. Welcoming females smile as they catch my eye, they've noticed my inspecting face. Chap with the fedora, would you like to come in, perhaps buy?

Not a chance, reason being is that the vast amount of your currency is spent. Plus, what could I possible buy with a pitiful few Krone pence? Exactly. So back I stroll to another available seat, time for more down time, my Clarks clad feet require a rest. Quiet Is The New Loud seems to be the most perfect choice of airport soundtrack. A Scandinavian band that are my supreme Kings of Convenience.

So, without further ado I return to watching travellers moving at various speeds. Some casual, nonchalantly relaxed - others flummoxed, worried, rushed. "I can't find my gate," I overhear a portly English woman say. "Can you help me, please?" Asks a small East African looking man with a ticket to Sweden. "You had better hurry, your flight is leaving soon," I tell him before pointing him in a direction. He thanks me and heads off. To his destination, he hopes. I hope he catches his flight. Knowing me I probably sent him to the wrong place. Oh well, I did try. Anyway, who does he think I am? An out of uniform airport worker. I don't think so - I'm just not that guy. The Weight of My Words plays soothingly into my receptive ears as I remember what I was initially doing, yes. People watching. Come to think of it, my friend did have a point, there is something about airports.

Demola, TCC