Bottling up time

I sleepily glance at the clock.

5:28a.m.

FIVE TWENTY EIGHT?

I need to be at the shuttle at 5:36a.m. I hastily get dressed and gather my things. Elaine Bennis style.

I get to the airport with plenty of time to spare but the jolt hasn’t worn off. I feel rushed. Impatient.

I start peeling off my coat, shoes, belt. Head out of gutter, people! The TSA requires every person to remove said articles of clothing. A woman in front of me is with a flight attendant. She peppers him with questions:

“Do I have to take off my shoes? My sweater? Can I keep my cell phone? Did you see my ticket? Wait, my shoes have to come off? Where is my phone? Thank you so much for helping me.”

As our bins arrive at the end of the belt he instructs her. “Walk down that hallway. Your gate is the last one on the left. When you get there…”but she is nervous. Frantic.

“My flight to Boston is down there? Can I buy coffee? Is anything open? Just down that hallway?”

Boston. I pause. I realize I have time. I can help. Those are the words in my head. “I have time.”

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