Observations From An Airport
I am in-between places, once again.
A friend of mine recently posted something brilliant on Facebook. Facebook is not normally the best, or most reliable, source of wisdom, but this was a rare gem. It was just one word, and it's definition.
'Sonder' : N. The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own - populated by their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness.
Across from where I am sitting, cradling a cup of coffee with my laptop in Dublin Airport, is a group of lads on their way to a stag do. It's 9AM and the drinks are already flowing. The Groom is easy to single out, as he is the recipient of slaps on the back, and has more empty glasses in front of him. They all have matching T-shirts. Poor sod is going to feel like death tomorrow.
There is the obligatory traveling business man. Black coat, rimless glasses, briefcase and overnight bag. He's going through the motions. Travel is no longer the thrill it used to be, his ambition has been drained from him like an empty swimming pool.
Across the cafe, on the other side of the room, there's a mother and father with a toddler. The father is pointing at the planes on the runway and the toddler is enthusiastically pointing and already making up stories about planes. Maybe he'll be a pilot someday.
Then there is the girl clearing up the empty glasses. She is here every day. Clearing up the debris that serves as the only reminder that anyone was ever here. I don't think she sees people the same anymore. We're all just moving cardboard cutouts that she'll never see again.
She comes to my table.
"Another large black coffee please"