People watching anywhere can be fun, but at the airport on a long layover, I noticed that it wasn’t just fun, it made me stretch my imagination – wake it up, in ways that made me think it’d been too long. It also helped me notice little things, things that I normally am going in a gear too fast to notice. This is just what the doctor ordered, or rather, my husband, who is always telling to me “Relax!” Normally this easy sounding task of relaxation is elusive to me, as I can always think of things that “need” to be done, or, in my perpetual way of thinking, that I should create a list of things “To Do.”
Well, here at the airport on a four-hour layover, I’ve been forced to put myself into neutral. I’ve resisted the urge to create any type of list and have instead decided to blog. I think that’s the best I can manage. Am I still doing something? Yes. But it doesn’t have to be done and it’s my kind of fun.
This airport is bustling with sights and sounds and aromas. I’ve parked myself in the sunny atrium about 20 feet behind a pianist playing from memory on a baby grand piano. She effortlessly runs her fingers up and down the ivory keyboard, bringing to life songs Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Chicago, Ray Charles, and the like, all the while smiling and saying hello to the curious travelers, many of whom take pictures or video before leaving her a token of appreciation in her overflowing, too small tip jar. Children are the most expressive, some dancing, clapping, and some just in awe of how her fingers can create such beautiful melodies.
Amidst the moving sidewalks that transfer people through the area is a row of trees and a display of American flags, as well as rocking chairs and shops. It’s the restaurants, though, that are beginning to awaken my stomach. I can smell the fresh salsa of the tequilaria and the tangy scent of Carolina BBQ, not to mention the roasted sugar coated nuts from the stand down the way.
Families abound at this airport, perhaps, like me, they on Spring Break. There are also many blue-toothed businessmen hurriedly making their way to their next stop, trying to keep their jackets looking fresh while they carry their much too big carry-ons bags. Members of the military also march through, some in dress blues, others in fatigues. They all seem to be focused and all have been gracious as other passengers thank them for their service to our country. I’ve seen young couples trying to wrangle little ones, strollers, and diaper bags, as well as the cutest set of seniors, who, as they listen to the piano music, hold hands and smile at each other. There are, of course, those who scamper through the airport as though their life depends on it, cursing those darn airlines, and one who somehow managed to stop to get coffee, despite his loud and obvious tardiness to his flight.
All of these are observations that anyone could partake it at many airports, but it is my joy that I’ve been able to stop, watch and make these reflections. Instead of dreading my long lay over, I am thankful for it.
annaemango 
