Tomorrow morning I’m leaving for vacation in Quebec. I don’t expect to be posting, but I’ll definitely be keeping a travel journal (thanks to Bryan for saving the day there). I’m sure parts of it will find their way here. Until next week, then, here’s a little number I wrote to celebrate the travelin’ jones.

Time to go.

The words are a wakeup call. Bags sprawl by the door like sleeping dogs. Wanderlust has made their master’s sleep fitful. It’s been too long.

For most, travel is a nuisance. Airports, with their hurry-up-and-wait schedules and counters staffed by drones, do their best to dull the shimmer of flight. But he doesn’t mind. All night he’s anticipated it — the last-minute dash around the house, the morning coffee made meaningless by adrenaline, the exit marked by an airplane silhouette. Every snag in the itinerary will be an opportunity to master the chaos.

He rushes toward the gate now, gliding past mere commuters who dream of bed. Even the indignity of the metal detector tells him he’s going places. Airport smells — diesel, chlorine and cheap vinyl — beckon as long-distance friends do. Ticket in hand, pockets triple-checked for essentials, he sits. Barely. The flight boards in twenty minutes.

Doors open. A polyester-coated attendant calls out rows like winning lottery numbers. Head cocked, feet gathered under him, he listens.

Time to go.

Related posts:
  1. Travel Day 1 *This bed is made of bricks.* ...was the first thought...
  2. Toddler Smash *Prompt: Write something that incorporates a squid, a lampshade and...
  3. Opportunity Do I have the time (and money) for it? Remember...
  4. Base She stirred the concoction in the saucepan, slowly, teasingly. "What's...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.