Conversations in airports


some recently overheard conversation snippets –

“What gate do we need?”
“This is E-24.”
“I don’t see any N.”

to check in / security attendant –
“I am in a great hurry and need to get to my appointment. I can’t wait for all these…” (gesturing at line of people)

attendant; “Ummm…you’d still have to wait for the PLANE TO TAKE OFF.”

“Well, then I am going to be late!” stomps off with shiny zebra roller suitcase….


 Annoyingly loud gaggle of  young girls, chattering about music playing at recent event;

“….didn’t even sing the right words, kept saying 99 luft balloons instead of red. its supposed to be red….”

(I now know that it is possible for me to facepalm, blush and grieve for the human race all at the same time)


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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