14 March 2009

Baggage Claim Woes

Every time I leave from a visit with Kip, I'm generally emotionally stable by the time I get to baggage claim.  And every time, I forget that That Couple always meets me there.  

Take tonight, for example.  I'm feeling optimistic, a little hungry even, when I take my stance at Claim 13 and wait for my giant blue bag with bated breath.  And then I look across the claim belt to see a reunited couple, her arms around his waist in that unmistakeable, "We've been apart too long so you're not going anywhere, buddy" sort of stance.  I hear low voices to my left from another pair, arms planted firmly around each other and lost in the moment.  I change my focus to the foreground of my vision. Another couple. Kissing.  A flash of blue distracts me--my bag!  With a mighty heave-ho, I drag my bag off the claim belt and through the crowd, out the door and onto the sidewalk waiting outside, where I am greeted by a Porsche drawing up to the curb.  Feeling like a guy for a minute, I oogle at its smooth lines and auto-superiority...until its driver glides out of the car and is immediately swept up into an embrace by their significant other.  Two nearby bomb-sniffing dogs bat their paws at each other in a playful little game.  If I were in a Disney movie, this is when two butterflies would fly past, fluttering around each other in a show of Spring...or maybe just irony.

Somewhere around the terminal, and with a certain air of comic relief, a baby starts to cry.  

Me too, kid, me too.

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