airport musings

It takes skill to watch with grace when everyone else is doing the same. Eye contact is broken over and over again by mutual consent.

I laugh to myself as I correctly guess which people will meld into the shuffling group waiting for flight #716 to Seattle. It isn't enough to pick out which have Starbucks drinks balanced in their hands or clutched in their fingers.  It's too close to meme.

...

A young man has caught and held my interest.  His expensive and crisply lined shirt leaves room for comfortable movement and his sleeves are rolled in an unorganized yet careful way to just below his elbows. His jeans remove all formality from his shirt however. At the hem they shred delicately over his expensive yet worn leather flip flops.

His packing is sleek. Two bags. Both black.  Slim. Steam lined. Perhaps he flies often.

His eyes, nose, and mouth are not delicate, but carry hints of an effeminate caring. Not in a way that erodes any masculinity in his face but in the kind of way that would put you completely at ease if he picked you up from the side of the road and offered to drive you to the nearest gas station.

His build is neither thin nor solid but carries itself in such a way that its litheness is evident. 

His hair, though obviously tended to with care, seems to think that decorum is a joke and curls to its hearts content.  It edges his face in unruly yet short partial curls that lend his face a playfulness that his black luggage denies.

The unconventionally placed rings in his ears speak more of an interest in the look rather than a fashion statement as if he actually likes them rather than simply using them to create an image.

He caught me looking. His immediate response was a smile. This may have been triggered by my habit of smiling whenever I make contact with anyone. However, the way that the lines fell so naturally into place makes me doubt that.  His face appeared to be very used to smiling and even now that his face is relaxed, it retains hints of the expression around its edges.

...

I know there are other people out there who observe as I do; who busy their minds with other people's lives even though we know that most of it is shaky conjecture. I wonder if they would have picked me out of the stream to be one of the ones to break off and step in front of gate C7. I wonder what they would see in my face, clothes, or color choices.

I know I see a Seattlelite, but I know things they never will.

They wouldn't know exactly where these Adidas shoes came from and how my little brother played soccer in them in the rain. They wouldn't know that I crocheted my hat in this yarn as I sat in my sunny dorm room in Georgia thinking about how the soft grey looked like the backdrop to the skyline I so desperately missed.  They wouldn't know that I wear green because I miss it or that my jeans have spent most of their worn life with the hems wet.  They wouldn't know that my backpack hasn't been this full since I was walking through the mist towards my next high school class, my glasses doomed to be smudged the rest of the day because I'd been too lazy to take the long yet dry way around. They wouldn't know that the reason I'm tapping my feet in line to buy my yogurt with fruit is because Sam Cooke is playing and all I want to be doing in that moment is swing dance in the little ballroom right off Broadway.

That's what I see when I look at me and wonder. I wonder what they would see.

Someone who won't give in and just buy new shoes even though they leak in the rain? Someone who bought a hat at some hippy store to make a statement about fair trade? Someone who likes to dress in odd color combinations that are reminiscent of an egg plant?  Someone who has to roll up her jeans because she can't find any short enough that still fit? Someone whose backpack is far too full and who will probably end up with back problems because of it? Someone who's nervous and uncomfortable with new environments and can't just stand still for once?

I find that they would most likely see a very different but nonetheless quite accurate picture of me.  Strange how observations can split like tree limbs. Both are correct. Both are covered in green leaves.