Dallas

A baby cries. Two pilots carry-ons thud across the tile floor. A blonde lady runs to catch her flight. The tv, volume turned down, displays the latest news on the Batman Shooting. The man at Taco Bell remembered me when I returned for another burrito.

I've been in the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport for two and a half hours. The last time I was here I had arrived from Kolkata and the TSA agent stared at my dhoti and in a Texan accent inquired where my pants were. I had laughed but not said anything.

I am on my way to San Diego now. From Gainesville to Miami I had listened to my iPod and patiently waited for the flight to be over. From Miami to here I napped on and off and less patiently waited for the plane to land. I had to use the bathroom but I had a window seat and both people to my right were asleep and I didn't want to wake them. The pilot announced that there would be turbulence and ordered the stewardesses to make the plane ready to land ahead of time. We weren't to land for another 30 minutes, normally they ready the plane 15 minutes before arrival. The stewardesses told us to stow our tray tables and turn off our electronic devices. I didn't turn off my iPod, I wasn't about to sit for another half an hour doing nothing and wishing the seat belt sign was not on so I could use toilet. Finally we landed.

A blonde girl on the television talks about how people who have been on the battlefield together share a bond that can't be understood but by those that have had the same experience. Marines are interviewed, one who lost his sight and another his legs. I have an hour more here in DFW and not much to do. I ate one burrito too many and I don't think I'll be hungry tonight. That could be a good thing or a bad thing.

I ignore the political forecast on CNN and put in my headphones. It's time to edit this entry.