St Christopher - Patron Saint of Travellers

​It had taken just 3 minutes after the security check for that warm, familiar excitement of travelling to evaporate.  You didn’t do it on purpose, just your being you, was enough to make any of my days a little less bright.  It’s difficult to put a finger on exactly what it is about you that sets my back teeth grinding gently.  I’ve thought about this a number of times, and so far, have come up with a few ideas : you don’t like me (fair enough, I’m happy to own this one), you think you are better than me (nah, you’ve got to own this one), and my current favourite – that you are just a sanctimonious bastard (now this one, this one has legs).
These pleasant musing were brought to an abrupt end as I watched, in something like slow motion, as you joined the queue to board the same aeroplane as me.  I have to admit, the little smirk that touched my lips was unnecessary, especially as you had tried so hard with your ‘I’m avoiding looking at you’ expression.  Good effort ! 
The excited, hurried,  electrical atmosphere of the transfer terminal brought back my good humour.  People rushing with over-large hand luggage bags ; older couples walking slowly, looking everywhere at once; groups of students with impossibly heaving looking back-packs, shouting directions to each other ; all getting in the way of harried, suit-clad business travellers.   I love air travel !
 
And there was me, with plenty of time to catch my connecting flight, strolling steadily towards the zig-zag that preceded passport control.  And there you were.  Following me.  There was nowhere else to go ; we would be zigging and zagging at the same time.  No escape.  Did I give a dam ?  Hell no !  I had practiced my ‘I’m avoiding looking at you face’ too.  Here, have it !
I think back to yesterday’s, non, meeting at the airport.  Yes, you still think you’re a higher being.  And, to be far, you may well be.  And you may well be wrong, either way, I know your secrets.

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