clinging to the wreckage

With nothing other than my longing for you, I set off for New Orleans for the weekend. Feeling very little these days other than a certainty that love is dead, I was hoping to find something to awaken my heart and open my mind to the concept that romance may well be a possibility once more. I was feeling particularly afraid of the flight for some reason and so I arrived at the airport early. To find a bar, I had to walk to the far side of the terminal because the two bars near the gate were both closed for renovations (how can they close both bars at the same time?). I sat at the last seat and ordered a beer. The bar started to fill up and a guy sat next to me and rapid-fire drank three whiskeys. I had time to waste so I slowly sipped two beers. I paid and got onto the plane. Window seat… locked in by two large, tattooed guys. I had to get up and pee twice during the flight and both times I felt bad for troubling them… but getting older earns a certain level