The guy sitting beside me talks about landing in Bali while I concentrate on not throwing up my lunch. I landed in Chicago a few moments ago and I'm waiting here at the next gate to board for
Minneapolis. Uncrossing my legs, shifting my seat, crossing them again, taking a deep meaningless breath. I feel sad. There's a wave of heat warming my shoulders and neck, then a cool draft sways around my feet and arms. On the head phones Michael Jackson's 'Billie Jean' is playing and I notice an Asian guy playing on a baby pink electronic device, it looks pretty sweet. I'm intrigued for a second, then looking down I try not to stare at the toes of the people sitting around me wearing sandals. I think about x-raying feet, at which point a flutter of tension pangs through my already queasy stomach.
I wonder if I'll loose my job over bike racing, I wonder if I'll have a good week in Minnesota. I wonder if I'll ever be completely happy, or if I'll ever stop wanting it all. Maybe I need something really profound to happen in my life to make me reevaluate my depth and proportion of importance. I would stop thinking so deeply about things that are insignificant. Maybe I need to have more fun, maybe I seek happiness in all the wrong places. Maybe the coming weeks of racing will help me sort it all out, I'd like to stop thinking about myself so much. That would be nice, it would be like a vacation, a really lovely time.
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