Thursday 11th February, 8.18pm.
The Departures Hall in the Tom Bradley International Terminal (aka Terminal 2) buzzes with activity. Incipient travellers engaging in a number of past-times. Standing in check-in lines. Watching the departures information board. Talking on cellphones or typing on computers. Wandering the upper concourse in search of food, drink or diversion from the boredom of waiting.
Out of all the food establishments, Mickey D’s has the longest lineup. Camacho’s Cantina is behind me, shuttered – renovating or out of business? Same for Sushi Boy next door.
To the left of me is a young woman on a laptop. To the right, a young man talking on his cellphone as he rummages in a fast food bag. The latest in a parade of travellers witnessed during the past six and a half hours. The sky outside has progressed from light grey to blackness, punctuated by the lights of taxis and control towers.
I entertain the thoughts of photos, of a snack, of more internet surfing to kill the next 94 minutes. Once those 94 minutes are up, my limbo ends. I’ll find out whether I continue on to my final destination or not.