Monday, May 12, 2008


They run high, especially at airports. Old friends, family members, the car service guy from Brooklyn who doesn’t know where he’s going nor speaks any English, emotions everywhere. The worst part about meeting someone at the airport is the waiting. Worrying about your meter expiring, thinking about the work you’re missing. Regretting you didn’t bring that book. Or flowers! How could you forget the flowers! But wait, in America, flowers, like chocolate, Pepsi and convenient snack sized potato chips, come in vending machines, so if you had that affair or forgot that anniversary, savior is conveniently placed in a machine. Welcome home.