Airport

 You wouldn’t be able to tell from the perpetually sad look on my face, but I love being at the airport. 


My ego loves it here. I am an esteemed stranger. Even without any of these “Gold Member” or “Sapphire Member” scams I hear about on the intercom or see a billion times, I feel vaguely important. Especially when alone. I’ve got a plane to catch, a place to be.


On this particular trip, I (tragically) forgot my edibles. It didn’t hit me until I realized they were gone just how much I love typing high on planes. For the brief period they allow me to unsheathe my giant computer… I really get off on it. 

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