coffee people

I'm in the PDX airport waiting for my family to pick me up after a brief trip to Davis.
Being in an airport with a latte and my laptop is my kind of an outing. I can eavesdrop and peek into little snippets of people's lives as they stop for a drink or a snack before proceeding on to their next destination. For me, this is the destination. for me, this is a fix.
I get a comforting feeling being the voyeur. Present, but not accounted for. When we get together with old friends, there is always a time in the evening when all I want is to become invisible and listen. Sneak away to a spot unseen and follow the conversation of my dearest friends as if listening to them on the radio. Laughing along quietly, making comments to myself. Interaction takes an energy I can't always spare, but observation is restorative.
I find the normal business of strangers compelling as well. Bearing witness to the details of a mother lovingly folding each tiny onesie as she reorganized her carry-on in search of her daughter's small stuffed penguin. Imaging the conversation between the two bohemian guys, dressed in black, as they pick at lomein and orange chicken for breakfast.
I fucking hate reality tv, but I could watch and listen to ordinary people doing ordinary things for days. If I had super power it would be invisibility and I would sneak into your house and watch you prepare supper....follow you to work and listen to you bullshit with your co-worker about your weekend....uh...am I starting to sound creepy? Don't worry, I'm not in your closet or your trunk...I'm here at the airport stealing small moments from strangers and savoring them like sugar cubes.