Delightfully disconnected 12/5/2014

The moving sidewalk is ending.

Autonomous,anonymous observer of my fellow travelers.

"Now boarding gate B-4 to NYC"

Ear-buds snug.

Choreographed to the playlist of my choosing, each traveler on his own track:

Bisecting, paralleling,occasionally twirling, time lapse slow

Around and around the newsstand or weaving around an on coming cart.

Props of every shape and size coordinate with their transporters.

Tiny rolling bags for toddlers containing carefully selected calming toys

a Teddybear wedged in a choke hold. 

A male flight attendant checking email on a smartphone 

Squinting through fluorescent green readers.

Suits! suits! and more suits! all pulling identical black luggage sets.

I pass a restaurant: 9:43am, Bloody Mary's?

I feel like I've been here before

A glass of wine alone, but when and why?

A scene replicated at airports across the county; maybe it was PDX or LAX or JFK.

Another hour before boarding and a long flight; why not?

The allure of watching, 

Absorbing as everyone moves around me.

Chance interactions, momentary connections before continuing on.

This is not our final destination.

If purgatory exists

I imagine it is like an airport.

Without cell phones to check-in with your day to day life,

There is only the slightest awareness things,

So inconsequential now, 

Continue 

In another realm 

Without you.

Insulated from the events beyond plate glass windows 

there is only the mind numbing repetition of CNN headline news; 

Distant, tragic, but ultimately irrelevant.

Noise from a party at the other end of the terminal flows out from a bar; you could join them

Or

The digitized voice on the PA system announces an invitation to " a mass in the non-denominational chapel in terminal 4."

Beer and pretzels or bread and wine?

Thick Christmas anticipation, fills the air.

Eager gift bearers, revelers, last minute shoppers

Then there are those, prodigals, mourners, dead-beats

Visibly wearing their shrouds of dread.

Time is an illusion, day and night combine beneath fluorescent lights.

This space of in-between unfolds exactly as we choose. 

We check the departure monitors hoping maybe this will be 

Our moment 

We scan the arrivals for the places we have been.

Autonomy provides the canvas for 

A do-over if we are so inclined.

Our soul's truest qualities peel away from defense mechanisms.

Before our very eyes our truest selves are made manifest.

When no one is looking, the fallacy of black and white revealed.

Checkboxes melt, denominations crumble, countries mapped by a child's crayons.

Business or pleasure as false distinction. Is there anything left?

My irradiated overpriced, spiked tomato juice does not trigger

Latent subcortical connections to explain my deja vu.

Wild unruly details of memories

Imperceptibly slunk away while my back was turned.

Returning to a city where I spent a few years, a chapter ago

Can I rely on mental maps for navigation or has that information escaped too?

Turn by turn I attempt to visualize;  there are gaps to be filled in by GPS.

And next time 
When I have a layover in terminal "A gates 1-14"
Will I remember there are huevos rancheros and weak bloody Mary's are just around the corner?
A philosophy of purgatory, furiously typing on a small screen, 
Categorized,captured organized stored and shared, 
I've tied a slip-not
Tethering the gossamer imagery to a tree of rooted long term memories.