Airports

I'm sitting in an airport, flight delayed for nearly two hours, and reading The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. There's an entire congregation that hates Amy Tan almost as much as it hates waiting in airports. I am not among it. So far, (page 23) Tan has been easy to read and includes sentences like, "Can you imagine how it is, to want to be neither inside nor outside, to want to be nowhere and disappear?" And "That's when I thought I needed something to do to help me move." And if those aren't the most astute descriptions of depression I've ever seen, I surely don't know what it is. 

As far as airports go, I don't mind them either. Airports for me have always been an excuse to read, eat candy, and sleep on the floor. Not to mention the buying of books in airport bookshops because, notably, in spite of the elevated cost of candy and snacks, the prices of airport books equal those of books purchased at Barnes & Noble.

My husband, not much of a reader himself, surprised me once when he told me that he loves flying because he can purchase a book at the airport bookshop and read the entire flight. Today, I purchased a chocolate bar, peanut M&Ms, Swedish fish and a copy of The  Martian by Andy Weir knowing that given my two hour flight delay, I would likely need it upon my finishing of Amy Tan.

My only regret is that I didn't bring a jacket.