Rebekah’s Studio

Airports aren’t really anywhere, and neither are airplanes. I am on a journey from Honolulu to New York City, and at the moment I am on the second floor at an airport magazine kiosk and just picked out the dried mango and almonds from a package of trail mix for breakfast, downing the morsels with a cranberry drink.

I’ve just realized I will be in nowhere land at the San Jose, California, airport for about 12 hours. I arrived at this town last night and was told the temperature reached 108 degrees. This morning I had the bright idea of leaving the Motel 6 (by the way, a clean and adequate overnight accommodation for a single traveler) while it was cooler, for the airport. I envisioned hanging out at an air conditioned frequent flyer lounge, sit-down restaurants, and expensive gift shops.

San Jose Airport, it turns out, at least in the terminal I’m in, has only one lounge, and it is at gate such-and-such, but no matter. I cannot get to any gate without going through TSA security, and to do that one needs a boarding pass that I won’t have until 7 p.m. when I meet up with my group—a high school choir for which I have signed on as a chaperone. Had I been thinking, I would have cancelled the airport taxi and gone to the Denny’s across the motel parking lot for a better meal.

But, a silver lining! I see a grand piano yonder, between the elevator and the escalator. I think I’ll saunter over to play some tunes. Yes, yes, someone left a music collection of Chopin waltzes. I am never lonely when I play piano.

Tomorrow morning our group will land in The Big Apple, and the real adventure will begin.

~ Rebekah