I hate travel. No that is wrong. I hate business travel by plane. Especially on fridays.

I think it might be some kind of early childhood trauma. It feels like being grounded. You have to be sit in a place you don’t really mind, but you would rather be somewhere else. In the beginning you tell yourself that it is actually not that bad. And so you arrange yourself with the situation. You read a bit, listen some music and maybe even have a drink. Your in complete denial.

You can feel it crawling towards you. Silent and vicious, like a dark skinned serpent approaching it prey, it changes everything.Frustration.

You suddenly realise that you are stuck. The door is closed and it seems like you are the only one that didn’t get a key.

You glaze on you watch. Three hours, and still no gate announced. You still sit in the same spot. The scenery is changing constantly, people arriving, people boarding. If you stop focusing your view shapes are blurring, colours are mixing. Faces and voices sublimate into a formless, surreal haze. It makes you dizzy. And aggressive.

But you behave. You tense up. You are afraid that your boiling guts might just rip you apart and kill a few of the unlucky bystanders. So you get up. I give my feed something to do. Displacement activity

Browsing. For the seventh time you scan the covers of magazines that you are never going to buy anyway. And why would you? You are carrying a paper, a book and your work folder already in your bag. Questions arise, who the poor bastard might be that is making a living from dead wood. Dead wood filled with stuff that is just desired only by men and women force by the very same desperation that you are facing at the moment.

Desire! Yes, that’s it. The desire to break free from this nightmare of creeping boredom. The craving for solitary. The yearning for openness of the world on the outside of the terminal. And terminal it is. Hope? All hope vanished when the a woman’s voice for the forth time that your flight will be delay for another hour. You reached a point where not even your hate is left. And you surrender.

“Passengers flying on the BMI flight 5555 to Edinburgh can now board from gate number 8. We apologise again for the slight delay and for any inconvenience caused.”