Red eye flights have some perks: quick check-in, through security in twenty minutes, and it’s nice and dark out. When you go on one to a new place like here, it has a pretty surreal feel. The lights upon landing were somehow swampy, foggy. It made me think I was on a different planet instead of the east coast. Green Leaf for breakfast was tastelessly greasy and rude but got me a nice big water bottle. I’m eyeing Vino Volo for lunch – we’ll see if I “discover great wine and food” as they advertise. The detachment I’m feeling is weird. Driving with Jovan to DIA was chokingly hard, and I can’t quite understand that still. Maybe because I’d never flown at midnight before, or because it finally began to sink in that I’m going to Peru. Being on the plane with other people my age seemed to ruffle my interest as strange. Here others were coming back or transferring to their spring break vacation. Same age, but different motives and priorities. I feel hollow in this limbo of an right-hour layover, not just from the shitty sleep on the plane. People here are different. Busy bustle, foreign accents, impatience. It’s ironic the gate for my flight, C71, is currently departing for Denver. I kinda feel like Charlie, a wallflower seeing all the details that everyone easily overlooks or ignores. I think that trait will help make a great writer out of me.
Traveling is an outlet for inspiration. Wander often, solo or in good company.
PS – Just saw a speckled pidgeon. This is an indoor place, how the hell did it get in here?!