THE COUPLE IN THE AIRPORT TERMINAL By John Grey
They hate each other in airports. The hum of jets is like an interloper urging them to argue He's always blowing his nose for one. He says it's the air-conditioning. And she weeps, even when there's no one there to see her off. And the metal detector surely zaps their brains. Can't find their gate. Are they even in the right terminal. And other people waving out the big glass windows. Why is there no one to wave for them? It's all his fault. Her fault. It has to be the eternal time killing. Making sure they're at the airport early so the plane can be delayed. An extra hour of nostril havoc, of uncontrollable tears. They've been wrenched out of routine, of life even, forgotten in this cavernous place by everyone but themselves, and the company is remorseless. What is that pilot staring at? No pretty airline lady, we do not need your pity. And whose idea was it that we should travel? A nose blower, a weeper... where do they have to go? They're...