Mitchell's Mustard Blog

December 30, 2013

The Next Flight, Maybe?

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 12:28 pm

He watched as all the destinations worked through the board, from right to left. The hustle and bustle surrounding him, everybody in a rush, impatient bodies with bags on tow. People looking to all for directions, everyone confused as the next. The zigzagging of feet and wheels, squeaking from the polished floor. The noise was overwhelming at times, most of the time. He took a seat for a couple of minutes, feeling slightly disorientated, if he took a moment and closed his eyes, maybe it would be silent. Just for a moment. The constant flow of chatter, he always thought would sit hand in hand with an his old untuned television. The noise for the vision. A tannoy blared above which pulled him back to the surface, apparently the check in desk had opened for Alicante. As the tannoy piped up, people stopped, looked to the ceiling, for the answers. People rushed, pulling their belongs behind them, to be first in the queue was all that mattered, the gold at the end of the airport rainbow. He didn’t move, he sat and thought about the sun licking his body, the warm sea tickling the bottom of his feet, his sore feet. He closed his eyes again, he was strolling down a little cobbled street somewhere in Spain, hand in hand with his wife, he loved her. It was a chance to wear one of his Hawaiian short-sleeved shirts, white backing with orange flowers, blue and red exotic birds, it was his favourite but his children were always embarrassed. His flip-flops clapping applause as he strolled the streets, sun hat, prescription sun glasses and a smile. Even his wife was smiling, she only seemed to do this in his daydreams now, she had such a beautiful smile, a happily married smile.
He realised time had passed as the tannoy announced the gate number, his daydream ceased to exist as his eyes opened. Reality flooded in, people had moved on, left him behind, and not just the ones Alicante bound. As he stood, his feet longed for the sea, for the sun to take away his aches and pains. Today there was no Hawaiian shirt, no need for prescription sun glasses. Today it was like every other day, his staff uniform and a high visibility vest. No bag of belongings, but a bin bag full of the unwanted. He set off with his broom in hand, ‘this place won’t clean itself’ he thought.

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