1.18.2005I wrote this on my trip back home for the winter
Ahh, the airport bar again. This one in St. Louis is different only in being smoke free. There is a smoking lounge down the hall that I will be visiting shortly. The groups are frighteningly typical, given the diversity of people that pass through- a few scattered business men sipping on scotch or talking quietly on a cell phone; a few older couples sitting quietly eating bad and grossly overpriced food; a big group of excited young people on a pit stop of some larger vacation.
This particular airport bar is also unique in that no one has brought children inside. I am quietly thankful for that.
It may sound sad, but I believe that the airport bar most closely captures my life at this point: simple, predictable, transitory, overpriced with little atmosphere.
The smoking 'lounge' was small, smelly, crammed with dirty, pathetic people and no sitting space, 3 overflowing ashtrays, and was smack dab in the middle of the terminal, surrounded on all sides by glass so the children and passers by could sit and stare and pity you. The ceiling was ventilated with a roaring fan that was only slightly drowned out by my headphones playing SAWII.
I smoked that cigarette down to the fucking filter, and went back to the bar for another rum and coke.