– overheard cell phone conversation in Denver airport
Even in Brooklyn, even in a park surrounded by trees, I feel the city. It’s not entirely physical, though the musty air contributes. It is more a rising feeling of restlessness, need to get away, the desire to be speeding away from any place I might call home at as many miles per hour as possible with as much wind in my face as can be arranged. The wanderlust grows to a rabid frenzy in some muted space below. It is worst in the summer.
My flight was four hours delayed so I wandered the airport and stumbled into the United Red Carpet room. Though I am not a member, the nice lady there got me on standby through DC and since it was the red carpet club calling I found myself bumped to the head of standby. I’m now in a 2-hour shuttle to Beaver Creek to see my family and yes, there is plenty of wind.
The sky is bigger and bluer, the roads more sparse, the green around me feels honest, like it is there of its own volition and not being paid a lot of money and water for its presence. I feel young when I’m moving, and it’s good to feel young.
