With a few drowsy steps I shuffled my feet with stiffened legs and with an uncaring yank out plopped my carry-on bag. I wasn’t in the mood to wake up. My life felt black and white like the color had been beaten out of it from nightmares and unfinished dreams. They say you’re supposed to have at least eight hours of sleep when you take sleeping pills. I only had six due to my lack of experience with overseas flight. And to make matters worse I had took two instead of half to hopefully avoid the jet lag, or maybe make a friend carry me all the way to the hotel (at least if I pretended to never wake and just snore). Because I flew alone the latter was not an option. Instead I kicked and dragged my bag off the plane like a five year old in a stubborn fit. I remember it whacking everyone in the knees and I not batting a lash (if my eyes were even open). Whatever got me to the coffee faster. Whatever transported me out of the cramped aisles found in the back of the plane, you know the place cleverly located next to the latrine and wing’s engine, smelling like urine, sex, and some French bitch’s body odor.
Anyway, after shuffling through the giant Dutch airport I found the nearest place serving coffee. It was a quaint shop that looked as if it was sagging with age from tourists and visitors, myself likewise, so tired each stiff-legged zombie put an unstable set of elbows down to lean on the counter and cram their eyes with the palm of their hands, almost as if they were about to cry. I remember the line being longer than desired because I, too, wanted to put in my two cents of an elbow lean. Hell, maybe even cry. An image of angels could do no justice to what tears would do to that dust. I promised the vendor silently that I wouldn’t make it collapse if he would just hurry. By the time I got to him the elder man behind me, maybe in his late 60’s, realized I had bitched so long that I actually forgot to decide on what I wanted. And with this I got a small shove and grunt. Not wanting to awaken an attack of the zombies trailing behind me I, like the saddened sinners before me, put my elbows down and leaned into my eyes as if pushing on them was going to instantaneously give me an answer.
