I like airports. I’m not sure why, but something about being in them makes me feel happy. Perhpas part of it is a sort of brooding excitement or expectancy. I love to fly as well, so perhpas it is also due to assaociation with the enjoyment of flying, and traveling in general.
I recently flew to minnesota, and was enjoying myself standing in the long line lugging my suitcase and overstuffed cary-on. People were hurrying past, while others stood about leaning boardly on their luggage. Traffic directors waved people this way and that, and large carts of baggage rolled by. The line slowly slithered forward. The baggage check crept into view. Then my heart stopped.
....’two by two, hands of blue’...
The haunting lines echoed through my head as I stared at at least five pairs of decidedly blue hands. All the security officers checking the bags were wearing blue gloves, of exactly the same hue as the agents searching for River. It was really very unnerving. Of course my bag passed just fine since I wasn’t hauling any cryostacised fugatives or contraband supplies, though the unlabled bag of sinus headache pills and the knitting needles made me a little nervous. They really couldn’t have chosen more unfortunate timing to issue blue gloves to their workers.....unless of course there’s a lot more truth in sci-fi than we realize =)
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