Airport genre does not allow sleeping all faced-down-pillow-sprawled-catawampus in and through the aisles of Southwest Airlines concourse A at gate 14 in Midway Airport, Chicago, Illinois. Apparently, it does not.
I do and have wondered if this stipulation is universal.
The inconsiderate nature of college students is what drives this home. What nerve! What right do they have, after all, to stretch and flay limbs of various size, strength and flexibility across areas once serving as walkways to open seats for the other tens upon tens of passengers, most of which are leaving hours upon hours earlier? Through thick glass panes, through fingerprint smudges pressed in patterns, plane after plane docks and loads and flies by, and the mangled limbs and pillows wait on a pair of wings. But out the window, what a sight! Tons of steel lifted effortlessly in the air, racing down strips of road just miles outside the Chicago skyline. But they don’t watch, they sleep and they sprawl. Do they think they own the place?
She doesn’t. Short, wrinkled, hair-do-ed, and dragging a pastel paisley roll-on suitcase, she huffed and spouted her opinions of this ridiculous display as she maneuvered. She hardly stopped to lay her eyes on the beauty of this collection of minutes sleeping to dream. I took photographs of the display she detested. Tommy wanted her to know what the college kids were getting on a plane to do. He took photographs, too.
If we’re going to change a country, to battle a poverty deeper than I’ve ever known, to bring peace into the crime capital of a nation: then do we get to sleep on the floor in concourse A? Or is it all just ridiculous anyway?
Bring a blanket, just in case.