We're All Alone in this Together
Whenever I make my way home I usually fly through my favorite airport, Charlotte International. It’s easy to get around, has great food and is filled with these charming southern style rocking chairs (I was actually sitting in one when I found out I was approved for my first apartment here, essentially finalizing the move, so they really have a special spot in my heart.) You can feel the lack of tension there, everyone’s just chillin in a rocking chair sipping a lemonade or whatever. It’s delightful. But scheduling forced me to reroute this trip and that wound me up in O’Hare for what was supposed to be a few hour layover.
At first I actually happy about it because I had never seen the color walls in person and couldn’t wait to shoot some photos. The layover provided me time to do so, and as I shot I posted a photo to my story on social media. An old friend of mine from college, Tammy, saw it and called me. She lives in NYC but was in Chicago for Lollapalooza and told me to come meet her downtown. I can’t, I told her, my flights in a couple hours but I wish I could. Crazy that we’re both in Chicago though, a city that we once visited together by train years and years ago.
I head back to the terminal from the color walls and dig for my phone charger. Don’t have it. Hmm. I begin the hunt for a replacement, which I thought would be easy. It was not. The afternoon turned to evening, my flight continued to get delayed, my phone battery continued to dwindle and I couldn’t find a USB-C charger in the entire airport. Then evening turned to night, my phone dropped under 5%, and the airport was starting to clear out.
There is something very eerie about an airport slowly emptying out - metal gates pulled down and locked, employees calling it a night, announcements over the PA for final boarding. It was almost completely deserted when we got the bad news, flight’s postponed until 11AM next morning. Half the people start killing the messenger, the other half are sprinting down to a customer service line that already looked hours long. I look down, 2% on my phone, not enough for an Uber. I walk out to a sea of cabs. Utter chaos. Decision time. Friday night in Chicago. I’m either using my backpack as a pillow on the O’Hare floor, cold, hungry and bored, or I’m flagging one of these cabs down and calling the only person I know in town right now. I only have enough juice for a call or two. I take a deep breath to fend off the small feeling of panic trying to climb up from my stomach, and wave a cab over. Decision made, I was going to find Tammy.
(to be continued)
