I like airports. Theres a sense of movement, of potential and exotic travel that is intoxicating. Everyone has their own destination and this adds to the mystery of airports. Nobody knows where anyone else is going, and when people can fill in the blanks on their own, they generally go for the most outrageous fantasies.
It helps me fit in. I am unique. There is noone else like me. An airport bar is my current hideout of choice; liquor helps loosen people up even more than normal in my current setting. I finish my spring water in a hurried gulp, and gather my things. Seconds later, I’m another face in the crowd.
I step hurriedly towards a gate and even take out my cell phone to help fit in. I don’t talk to anyone, just mutter intermittenly. As I pass a gent standing in a suit, I give him a nod and a wink. Shit. I hope I didn’t oversell. My steps hurry instinctivly and I glance behind me.
The man I nodded stands gawking as agents converge out of nowhere.
A smile to the receptionist.