Waiting at Heathrow

Heathrow is one of those weird places where everything and nothing is happening all at the same time. The buzz, clatter, motion, sound--people waiting in line for sandwiches, the BBC blaring across a gigantic screen, voices on cell phones, ladies at the duty free counter, families with strollers, four story high walls of windows, and outside, planes ascending into the gray spatter of rain.

I'd hoped to do some shopping while I waited (nine hours) for my flight, but unless you can afford Fendi and Aramani, forget it. The only thing I bought were two cappuccinos, some internet time, and a salad. Then I found a place to set down all my stuff, and I did what everybody does: I waited. While the din of Heathrow swirled around me like a tornado, I watched passerbys, stared off into space, and enjoyed that jittery delight of being on my way somewhere.