While my guitar gently weeps (part 3)

Part 3

Travelling in Time

So we went for a snack: my friend empty handed offering to help me who, with a guitar and a backpack on my shoulders, refused his help. Reasons for said refusal: I am so used to carrying my backpack that without it I feel naked. As for guitar, customary jealousy (“nobody touches my guitar!”) was accentuated by the imminent separation (“let me just say goodbye to Archimedes…”).

Since we gave ourselves plenty of time going to the airport, there were still another couple of hours to kill before boarding time. We strolled leisurely to the other extremity of the terminal (where snacks could be found) stopping to admire the permanent exhibit on the way (I really love those floating cubes! Sooo relaxing…). We finally sat down to eat something overpriced and unsatisfactory just to kill time (the options for food at the Toronto airport are terrible. The airport in Brasilia is a thousand times better. There’s even a cinema!)

We chatted and we chatted. We compared our pasts, presents and futures as travelers. We reminisced about the days when we enjoyed bragging about “our favorite airport” and exchanging notes on how to avoid jet lag or tricks to manage to fall asleep in a transcontinental flight.

We reflected nostalgically about a time when we thought someone was just being snobbish when she said she had grown tired of flying. How can anyone grow tired of flying? We laughed thinking of those distant days when the mere thought of flying gave us goose bumps; a time when we would count the days until flying, our dreamy eyes already greedy for the little sachets and other flight goodies to be collected like a trophy.

Those days are gone. The future is now. To our surprise we find that those snobbish people whining about being tired of flying are ourselves. Our turn has arrived. I dared say to my friend something I had long felt, but had never had the courage to say out loud: that if I had to spend the next five years without flying anywhere at all, I would not complain a bit. I saw in my friend’s eyes that I had hit a nerve: I had expressed a feeling of his that he did not know he had. He smiled gratefully.

Turns out this trilogy follows Star Wars, in that it is composed of more than three parts.

Don’t miss the next episode of this fascinating journey through time, space, bureaucracy and esterical brains. 


2 responses to “While my guitar gently weeps (part 3)

  1. Pingback: While my guitar gently weeps (Part 5) « Ester’s Blog

  2. Pingback: While my guitar gently weeps (Final episode) « Ester’s Blog

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