Flying (landing) through the rain was an exhilarating experience. The Ottawa airport, however, is the source of some of the most dismal sights I have yet encountered. A tiny restaurant called Toast! -- one counter, two tables, and a small refrigerated soft-drink display. An ancient playplace for children -- an upright prism of three corners and an open side intended to simulate a cockpit and decorated with a minimal number of white switches and bulky, plastic microphones. Ten chairs alone and unoccupied in a large, wheelchair-accessible carpeted space a few feet off the ground, close toe three antiquated vending machines -- Coca-cola, Montclair and a dispenser of packaged snacks. Unidentified gates, unopened windows, unused phone booths. I love it. I wish I had a camera to complement my words.
The old terminal (a single corridor) is deserted at night (8:00 p.m.), but for gate 22, where the Montreal-bound are concentrated (less than 30 of us, sitting as if in hushed reverence of our surroundings). On the wall hangs this message, handwritten in black Sharpie and accompanied by an arrow pointing the way:
GATES
1-18
GO THRU
WALKWAY
TO
NEW BLDG
The plane has arrived. I wonder if they'll pre-board.
k, time to talk about shopping
I finally bought sandals. I also found this awesome store by the White Rock beach.
Shopping talk over. Book review.
Johnathan Livingston Seagull, Richard Bach
Here I am!
