in britannia

The Californian adventure commences: After some minor issues (like finding out that I hadn’t actually been ticketed to San Jose), I am now seated at gate B36 at Logan International Airport – an institution unlike any other. 5 Terminals: A through E. A has been closed for as long as I can remember. D is not a terminal as much as it is parking. Which leaves, of course, C (a beautiful, well-lit terminal with amenities galore), E (the international terminal, but brand new and sparkling, not to mention almost completely empty at this time of day; this is the terminal from which my two brothers are flying), and I sit here in terminal B. I waited in a line for about 30 minutes this morning. At least, when you’re in line at Disneyworld, there’s lights and music and a ride at the end. In this line were a ton of small children, people rushing to catch flights to exotic locales being rushed past us in line, and few racist old ladies muttering about all of the “Mexicans and Chinese” around them. I think they spoke loud enough to let me hear because they didn’t think I could speak English. And at the end of the line? You get to get in another line and go through airport security. How delightful. I’d have used the self-check-in desks, but I swear, the line was twice as long.