On route to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, more on that in the next post, I stopped for a layover in the home city of my ex.
I had created two perfect movie endings for how it could play out. It turned out to be neither, but I actually appreciated the airport, which is a little slice of the city, for what is was.
The first fantastic option was I would clear immigration, like I always used to, and he’s be waiting for me at the bottom of the escalator, with open arms, like he used to — even though he had no idea I was going to Mardi Gras and no idea when I was traveling. Obviously this did not happen and as I true sign I am healing, I didn’t even go down the escalator to check.
The second, and my personal favourite of my two fantasies, was that I would arrange a flash mob using twitter. We’d have a whole group of people spontaneously break into dance — say Soulja Boy’s Crank That —in one of the main areas of the airport. A news crew would just so happen to be there and I’d end up under the headline International Incident at the Airport.
This did not happen either, mainly because I was quickly distracted by the fact that I found one of my favourite city restaurants had a branch at the airport.
As I was eating fantastic food and contemplating how much I love the city, it occurred to me that I would get so much more accomplished if I stopped concocting elaborate fantasies in my head all the time, of course then life would be an awful lot more dull.
Anyway, I have a new city to explore, more on Mardi Gras and my already growing collection of beads soon.
Rules for living 