airports are strange places. everything—everyone—in transit, everyone rushing and waiting and wired and sleepy. airports remind me of romance, and that final scene in all those movies where the main character's lover shows up right before they board the plane, tells them how much they love them (cue the piano music), and blam! forgiveness for the win. (insert crescendo of brass instruments here). wonderful.
i have two luggages and a guitar, along with a huge bag and my camera gear; haven't exactly planned out how i'm going to manage everything, wish me luck avoiding awkwardness and tripping.
again, underslept and glad for it.
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