Airport Purgatory

Wher­ev­er you go, there you are. Liam and pre­co­cious off­spring. Pan-seared duck breast Thai deliv­ery at 9pm at night. Upper West Side nice as always. Police locks on doors tell a ten year old dif­fer­ent sto­ry. All air­ports look the same; still get slight­ly nau­seous dur­ing descent. They shut off the air flow: hot and bumpy and noth­ing to look at. Came home to near white­out night snow. 49° apart­ment. Left­over piz­za. Can­dy crust car this morn­ing and the first fake lady­bug: har­bin­ger-van­guard-recon of annu­al inva­sion.