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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