Musings in the airport at Dallas
As is sat waiting for my flight in Dallas airport last week, a very curious thought emerged within me. I was in the airport by three in the morning to board a flight four hours later, and it gave ample time to get into one those mellow moods of observation, which grips our senses every now and then, when we are not particularly stressed or worried about anything in particular. There is a strange s ense of dispossession. Slowly, the airport was coming to life with travelers pushing their trollies, parents herding their children, youngsters with headphones jammed tight on their ears : as they walk around hunting for a cozy seat to put up their legs and relax. An airport is a strange place. It is a no man’s land. Thousands of people congregate, chat, socialize in bars and restaurants, making inane conversations with strangers; sometimes audacious enough to reveal their long buried secrets. All that one needs is a sympathetic ear. Beside me was seated a good looking lady, probably in her