THE Lowly Peon

Gate E6 at Bush Intercontinental 
07 January 2010, 11:16am

It's 6:04am on a Thursday. I'm waiting for my flight to Newark en route to Hong Kong to meet Stefan. Yet something seems familiar.

Years back, I used to sit for hours in this very terminal, next to the Pappadeaux and the Hudson News, during long layovers between Colorado Springs & Sarasota, Florida. It was here that I was either miserably depressed or so excited I had a hard time keeping my muscles from shaking.

But now, even though there's likely the same level of excitement surging through my veins, I am relaxed, even a little tired (it is 6am), and enjoying this orange juice like it is heaven in a bottle. Is this because travel has become boring to me? No, I don't think so. I still can't wait to get to Hong Kong (which is arguably more exciting than Sarasota). I think it's because I am just where I want to be.

"Where I want to be" is certainly not Bush Intercontinental Airport. But "where I want to be" is making forward progress — moving. I always laugh when I think about how Greg House says he likes to walk when they talk because it gives the story the illusion of moving forward. Well, maybe that's the same for me. Sitting still for hours at a time — thirty minutes to get to the airport, an hour at the gate, three hours to Newark, a few more hours at the gate, thirteen hours in economy plus, an hour on the airport express — somehow makes me feel like I'm not stagnant. And I love it. (More to come about my recent life decisions and how not being stagnant was my primary focus.)

I know I'll get to where I'm going. And I know that once I get there, I'll probably put my stuff down, grab my hat, and take off to wherever I'm going next.