Waiting . . . .

My flight was scheduled to leave at 1:50. It is now 5:41 and we have made it from the terminal into the airplane. That was an hour ago.

People who are waiting are interesting. People read, mess with their luggage a little, go get coffee, play Angry Birds (guilty!).

And, eventually, they start talking to each other.

I've overheard stories about where people are going and where they've been (figuratively & literally). There is a scrabble game going on next to me that Is almost over, and I'm going to ask to be included in the next round. A lady and her partner just pranked a very good-natured flight attendant.

I met a chiropractor who has a practice in Woodland Park. She is looking for a bike; I'm looking for a chiropractor. We exchanged information while waiting for an agent (who never materialized) to rebook the connecting flights we have probably missed.

It's interesting what it says about human nature, and I'm sure there is a sociologist somewhere who could iterate all kinds of information about human tendencies. We are capable of a lot while we are waiting, which we do a lot of.

We wait to grow up. We wait for our turn at the bank window. We wait on the elevator. We wait at stop lights. (I once passed time in traffic counting how many people I could see who were picking their noses while they were waiting. It was really, really gross.)

And why do we stop talking when the waiting is over?

Perhaps I should start making eye contact with those around me instead of stressing about the ENTIRE afternoon of lost productivity and fulfillment. Perhaps I am missing other opportunities . . . .

So, how about that scrabble game?