I was in a taco shop watching the waiters with one eye and a bit of football with the other. Sun-bleached, day-dazed. I’d done my time at the office. I’d spent half an hour shopping for coconut milk and oatmeal soap. I didn’t have it in me to focus on just one thing.
A brunette said there’d been a water leak at opening. She was talking to the manager, who I’ve met before. The laughed about it, walked off, problem solved, all dry now, but the image stuck with me. I saw the shop in six inches. The tables were slopped up and the chairs were floating. Tortilla tugboats ran laps in the open waters. There were cliff jumpers diving off the salsa bar.
When the food came, I had to steady myself to keep from slipping. Sometimes, the pictures in your mind are more real than the dry ground under you.
I texted a friend who was waiting at an airport. Her flight got delayed. Someone had an excited dog in the lobby. The woman next to her was flossing.
I like liminal spaces. I like the way you look when you’re wearing the clothes you woke up in. I like walking backwards because I dropped my carry-on. I like picking up People magazine because there’s no better way to kill time.
I haven’t flown in a minute. I don’t know the next time I’ll fly.
It feels like life is getting away from me. I’ll be 30 in three months. But life’s always running and we chase it. Years ago, I met an actress by the beach. She joined us at a punk rock show. Later, that actress was flying beside me on an airbus out of Detroit. She’d been living in Hawaii and was coming home. Now she runs a small production company with another filmmaker.
There’s this anecdote that goes: “Don’t count the colored linen before labor day.” Or am I mixing that up? September can take a snail’s pace. I’m not eager to lift off.