Ten? I think this is ten.

Guys,
It is so cold in the Miami airport. I'm not even joking with you. PLEASE TURN OFF THE AIR CONDITIONING.

Well, yes, I am in Miami. I've been here for awhile. I don't know what time it really is, because my laptop, my watch and my mobile all have different times on them now. I think it's going on to 8 PM at home. You've all just settled in for your Sunday evening after a nice dinner, tucked in your warm houses, all that jazz.

I am sitting in this frigid and neglected wing of the airport, which is so quiet and completely abandoned that I can make out the distinct audio feeds from at least six televisions scattered across the waiting areas in this part of the building. Every time someone does walk by, the muffled thud of footsteps is so quiet it doesn't even pretend to echo.

I kind of like airports at night, though. You get to see their skeletons, and imagine what they look like in the bustle of the day without actually having to combat the crush of people and the wall of noise. I remember flying into Lihue last December, and stepping into the open-air airport, and just feeling the wave of sultry nighttime heat. I remember everyone huddled in hushed excitement as we stepped off our long flight, shook out our tension, stretched into helpless yawns and tried like little kids at Christmastime to keep our eyes open against the night while we waited for our bags.

I mean, my bag never came, unluckily for me, but that actually didn't bother me too much. I was pretty content to just stretch across our duffel bag of camping gear and smile to myself in the dim airport with the night bugs buzzing just outside the ring of light, while Ian had a helpless conversation with the lone airline agent in the airport about where my belongings might be. I don't think the stupid smile ever left my face. When we went back the next day to look for my bag, it was a completely different place: hectic, rushed, cacophonous. All the things I'd rather imagine than experience. But at night, it was lazy and beautiful.

This is a totally different species of airport, of course. Lihue was intimate, well-loved, a little derelict. This place is sprawling. At least it seems so now, when whole stretches of it are empty. And it's cold in here. But there's still something appealing about being here on my own, stretching out my aching muscles, imagining how the face of this place changes in the morning, in the afternoon. What it will look like when I'm gone. I own it alone right now, and that's kind of cool, don't you think?

Okay, I'm going to go for a walk to warm up. We'll see how self-conscious I feel when I get my blood pumping a little faster -- it would be nice to stretch out and do some yoga to undo the last bits of tension from the flight.

I'll probably write again later. I can't seem to stop. Love to you all!

Jess