Pre Flight Jitters

As he sat there, he could feel his mind racing. Running a thousand miles an hour.

The air was stale. Tastless. Still. He could feel it drying out his lips, tempting him to go get a bottle of water. It felt like he was trapped bubble. Left to suffocate.

He couldn't hide from anything. It all lunged at him. Harassed him. Wouldn't leave him alone. From above, the fluorescent lights seemed to beam down. Illuminating the sterile tile and linoleum around him. Accentuating how barren and empty the laid out designs really were. There was no meaning behind them - just a pattern for the masses to follow from one destination to the next. Beneath him, he could feel his wallet and keys digging into his skin. Pressed firmly against stiff padding that they tried to pass off as a seat. From a distance they looked comfortable - strategically placed indentations goading someone to sit down, only to disappoint when their offer was actually taken. No matter how he shifted, it only became more uncomfortable.

As much as he tried, he couldn't ignore the hundreds of people around him. Talking. Laughing. He heard conversations in tongues he couldn't understand, about business, family troubles, pleasure. All the voices were funneling directly into his ears. Colliding inside of his head and rattling around before finding their way out. Even with his earbuds in with music playing, he couldn't escape. It was a melting pot of language.

When he did try to stand up and stretch, his body argued back. Letting him know exactly how displeased it was. His muscles didn't like sitting for so long. His joints ached whenever he put pressure on them. His hair was sore from wearing a hat for so long - bent over for hours at a time. Underneath his clothes he could feel his skin prickling - pleading to be cleaned. Wash away some of the sweat that had accumulated since the journey had began. As he wandered around from his seat, he felt uneasy in the crowd. By the proximity of everyone else.

He was tense. Nervous. Running on fumes. The first leg had been devoid of sleep. Of crying babies and turbulence. Nothing he hadn't encountered before but this time was different. It had been longer. And he was worried. Over the last couple of months he had lost control of the language. Forgotten what to say and how to say it. He fumbled with the words. The pronunciations. He had always been so focused on embracing the culture - not just becoming another tourist. But time had eluded him. Made his memory fuzzy.

But most of all he was nervous. To see her again. Standing there at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him. Radiating out from the rest of the crowd. Ready to whisk him away on another adventure. And for the first time of the trip he felt himself smile.

It wasn't nerves - it was excitement.