There's a(nother) bird in another airport

After being ushered down the hall in the A corridor, and pointed to a room, and after going down a narrow hallway, first bending right, then left and arriving in a small room, where I'm told "hold up" for the shuttle that will take me to the B gate, I wait.

The short ride on the shuttle bus tours the tarmac—the strip of casinos in the background—weaves around the the round exterior of gates, construction crews all around. It was short but strange, taking a shuttle bus with seven or so people (a soccer camp kid, a grandmother, an islander among the lot) was. When it arrived I thanked the driver, "just doing my job," her non reply indicated. Through a shoot, up some stairs and down another hallway, I was in the B gates wing. Sitting and standing, stretching and slot-machine watching, I notice something that's become sort of a regular happening for me, but one I find ironic and poetic. A simple sparrow does a lap around the round wing of the corridor before finally perching atop a gate's B-14 sign. How did a bird get into an airport, a deep dark corridor that took a shuttle and a series of mazes for me to arrive in. A bird in flight. A flight soon to be taken. Both sharing the excitement of something new.

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