The battery on my phone ran out hours ago.
I should have bought a longer book.
Long enough for this unexpected delay.
Pro-democracy protesters have shut down
Hong Kong International Airport.
There’s nobody at the counters by the gates,
It’s past midnight and they left hours ago.
Laptop is in the red zone and I need to
save that for making alternative plans.
I don’t dare leave the area at the departure
gates until I know what is going on, how or if
I’m going to reach my destination in time
for the memorial ceremony at the Buddhist
temple in Bangkok the day after tomorrow.
I have a TSA approved hard plastic container
of human cremains in my compact back pack.
Three pairs of clean socks, underwear
two shirts and a pair of slacks. This was
supposed to be a very short trip.
Every seat in the terminal is occupied
by sleeping travelers, and every patch of carpet.
No place to stretch out or even sit.
But there is space under the rows of seats
where I can slide in from the end.
Rest my head on my backpack.
Stuffed with my clothes and the ashes
of my deceased partner.
No sleep, but it’s more comfortable
than the cold granite floors of the corridors
At least it’s carpeted and warm enough.
With a view of shoes, socks, ankles.
I close my eyes and listen.
It’s very quiet now, the anxious voices
of a few hours ago have mostly faded.
A baby cries gently until it’s mother
soothes it in a language I don’t recognize
but the baby does.
The airline representatives return
in the morning, we will have to exit
customs and rebook our flights.
Thousands throng the ticket counters,
there are no seats to Bangkok departing today.
I get one for tomorrow and walk
two minutes to the airport hotel.
Book a room that includes access
to the deluxe lounge. Light buffet
and open bar. View of a parking lot.
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