Letras Caseras

Michelle always packed light – extra light – the way she took her coffee, chose men, and discarded friends – easier to get on, get off, and let go.  The Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta airport took her by surprise – even rushing off the plane didn’t make the trip into the steamy Georgia morning quicker.  She shoved her way to the departing plane-train that promised to carry her out to the baggage terminal – thinking “Hah!  I don’t have to wait for a bag like the rest of those suckers.”

The suckers swayed lazily in the plane train – her carryon bumping women’s legs and a child in a stroller.  The child started to cry and several women turned to look at the culprit with the obstructing carry-on.  Michelle pushed her hair out of her face and looked away as they commented on her rudeness.

The plane-train came to a screeching halt and a smooth southern voice came over the intercom.

Good morning Atlanta – we have a problem with airport electricity and have to shut down the plane-train for 15 minutes.  We are sorry for the inconvenience and will be moving shortly.

Michelle cursed – now stuck in the plane-train with screaming children, nasty fat women and smelly men.  She jumped for the last remaining seat but an elderly man sat before she could and she slipped, down to the floor, her skirt hiking up to reveal black lacey underwear.  The women who had previously looked suspiciously at her, laughed.  No one offered a helping hand.

Walking through terminal B, Paulette paused to let a family pass – the children were enjoying the flickering lights, but when the air conditioning went off – the mood changed.  The oppressive Georgia heat had entered the terminal, and she was caught by surprise when the plane-train she had decided against came to a screeching halt.   Her bag was checked and she pulled her small backpack close, keeping the pocket with her wallet near her chest.   Emergency lighting appeared and an omniscient voice told the travelers to remain calm; electric crews were working to resolve the issue.  She looked out into the semi darkness – past families trying to keep children calm and stranded single travelers – to the eerily lit suspended plane-trains with faces pressed up to the glass.  Someone was watching her – she turned – and saw Michelle banging on the window.  Paulette’s heart stopped – God sees the truth but waits – in Atlanta of all places the airport – Michelle had been her best friend – who had discarded her in a moment of dire need – now they met in the semi-darkness – one coming – one leaving.  Paulette moved to the edge of the platform – hoping the train doors would open, Michelle would emerge and they would reconnect.

Smiling, Paulette took the step forward, putting her hand on the glass, but Michelle shooed it away and pointed to someone behind her; devastated Paulette, turned, a short man in a business suit stepped out of the gloom and over to the train, his face lit up at the sight of Michelle behind glass.