#102
Me: I had to work Thanksgiving one year at the airport.
Her: that sounds terrible.
Me: I was surprised how busy it was.
Her: wasn’t it sad?
Me: Not really. The airline catered a meal for us. Every break room had turkey and all the rest.
Her: but still. Thanksgiving at work, in the airport.
Me: I really didn’t mind. I felt some kind of odd camaraderie with the other employees. The girl at the Starbucks. The TSA agent. The kids who push the wheelchairs. I even took the bus home that night. It was just another work day.
I was starting to tell her about the time a bus driver stopped and locked us in the bus so he could go get a sandwich at Subway, when she suggested we go down the street.
Her: I think they have a band tonight.
I finished my drink and we left.
Me: You know, the airport wasn’t that bad. Not really.
Her: you never sound like you really liked it. All the stories of people doing stupid shit all the time.
Me: I at least got to walk around. I used to do like eight miles a day.
We could hear the music as we rounded the corner. The air was cold, I pulled on my hat, and slipped my hands into my mittens.
Her: Those are cute.
Me: My friend’s aunt knitted them. I like the color.
Later, the band was finishing up. We stepped back outside. It was late.
Me: thanks for coming out tonight. I had enough of my family.
Her: It was good to see you. Happy turkey day.
Me: God, you know I hate that.
Her: you’ve not changed at all. Call me.
Me: of course.