2AM: Airpot

The Dulles airport is surprisingly busy at 2AM. Travelers who are just arriving, picking up baggage, the noisy sound of carts rolling down the long hallway, the janitor's vacuum, the non-stop, repetitive TV advertisement, the elevator music ringing through the overhead, it makes for an incredibly terrible place to sleep in. Not that I am sleeping anyways. Though I do feel bad for the many people who are slumbering next to me. The girl with the pink suitcase is sleeping with her feet elevated on her suitcase to keep track of her suitcase. The mother-daughter/sisters pair behind me keeps making phone calls on speakerphone, and the annoying female voice of "your call has been forwarded to an automated voicebox..." shows up every 5 minutes. Oh, and there's the sound of kids screaming their displeasure of not being able to sleep at this awful early, or is it late, hour. The inconsistent music that plays with certain commercials, sometimes ringing loud enough to cut through my noise blocking headphones, then disappear off as if saddened by the lack of attention from its looped video. And then, there's the chilling wind coming down the hall, wrapped with the scream of the little girl in red, reminding us that we cannot hide from the certain winter that is raging outside the thick concrete walls. Shops, dark and sleeping, oblivious to all this commotion, though they do refuse to rest quietly, with pulsating lights to grab the attention of the tired and worn travelers. How the night seems to drag on without resolution, the clock ticking oh so slowly. My foggy mind, struggling to clear a path, still bombarded by the sensory overload of this surprisingly busy airport. My heart, beating faster with excitement, thinking of when I finally get to take off and be carried away from this dreary gray and white scene, screeching with unbearable senses. --A practice piece. Clearly smeared by lack of practice and sleep deprivation.