Small airport waiting areas host a bevy of activity, as strangers avoid eye contact, reading USA Today, Dean Koontz, or the latest issue of Cosmo. A novelty, I sit trying to look nonchalantly hip in comparison, laptop open, working in multi-colored tags of HTML.

Business travelers, seminar attendees join in the camaraderie of the delayed flight as the wait grates on patience, eyes wander to sneak a peek of their neighbor, curious to find out what the 10 secrets are to keeping a man, what kind of quick notes are being scribbled furiously in a ringed notebook to someone named 'Jim', what trade secrets sit in those disorganized manila folders.

'6:40 we will start boarding,' crackles over the old intercom system, a bit too loud, a bit fuzzy like aluminum foil being crushed in the background. A collective groan goes up as the blonde woman with black roots extends her arm purposefully to glance at her watch, probably not even registering what the time is, but as a reflex to realizing the wait is no closer to being over.

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