I’ve been thinking that the airport could be a metaphor for life.

I know, enough with the metaphors, but I’m sitting around with tissue sticking out of my nose and Downton Abbey is not providing the same comfort Sesame Street did when I was a child.  So, I turn to thinking and that brings me to the airport, specifically “the moving sidewalk.”

I’m not sure if everyone has these at your local airport or if you’ve ever been to an airport with a “moving sidewalk,” if not, I’ll explain.  It’s a flat escalator that moves people from one terminal to the next.  You stand on it and it glides down the walkway for you.  You can walk on it or just ride.  If you are late for your flight, you are not on this thing at all, instead you are booking it old school, on foot, through the center corridor that still allows for running.

“While on the moving sidewalk, please stand to the right, allowing room for those who wish to pass you on the left.”  That’s what the lovely voice says while you’re moving with your bags trying to convince your child not to grab onto the side and stop the sidewalk like Superman.

“Please stand to the right, allowing those who wish to pass…”  We are all moving through life.  We all spend time running through the center on foot, we do plenty of time actively walking the moving sidewalk, passing others.  Then there are times we stop, take a break, and allow others to pass on the left.

I’m not a fan of the last one.  I don’t like stopping.  I don’t like the idea of others moving ahead of me.  What if they get there first or I miss out because I was too busy looking out the window on the moving sidewalk?  I have issues, I know, I know, but I don’t get why you’d want to just pull over and ride some snail paced belt.  I want to get there.

As with most things in life, I never appreciate all the options until things change and I can’t move, get there.  Today I’m still sick.  I’m reluctantly standing to the right and allowing room for those who want to pass on the left.  I don’t like it, but I am glad it’s at least an option because at this point I’m not even sure where my suitcase is.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Sleep All Day.

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5 Comments Leave a comment

  1. this is a lovely, honest post.
    a bow to you.
    i wonder if that question of “why you’d want to just pull over and ride some snail paced belt” could be answered when you are feeling better…
    you could try it, when you are feeling well, pull over, be a snail, feel into it
    and turn your attention open
    to see (after the yakkity-yak dies down) what gifts and wonders emerge…
    then you could be all zippy-pants and have the knowing of both worlds…

    • This is such a very good idea. I have slowed, but I have yet to, as you say, “turn your attention open to the gifts and wonders.” That’s the part I’m missing. Maybe someday I will get them both together. Zippy Pants is really all I’ve known for a very long time. Thank you for your wonderful comment.

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