Atlanta, I'm here. Exhausted. But all unpacked and full of stories.
Number one, I have overpacked. As usual. Freaking out too much about missing something, so my shoulders are dead. And it's warm here like it's summer. You can imagine what that did to me walking around in a winter coat and winter boots, with a backpack that was glued to my back. I think I sweated through my coat, but surprisingly my feet were comfortable. Amazing. Sorel boots did their job. But boots aside...when I was waiting for the plane, I sat directly under a big TV screen that broadcasted the inauguration, and I was too tired to get up and move, and there wasn't anywhere to move to, unless I sat on the floor. So even though I didn't want to, I watched bits and pieces of it, and my hair stood on end. Finally I went to take a long pee—it felt glorious, and by the time I returned, the presidential speech was over.
There was a man standing next to me, with a button with TRUMP PENCE 2016 written on it. I stared at him against my better judgement, and he looked back at me until our staring at one another became uncomfortable and we looked other ways. And I wondered, what did that man think? He probably had very good intentions at heart when voting, and I wondered if he were aware of what it is exactly he had voted for. I looked around the waiting room, and all faces were turned up to the screen. I wished I could read those people's thoughts, wished we all had a discussion, and it wasn't possible. And that made me sad, watching people passively look at what was unfolding, watching myself passively stand there and stare at the TV.