The meeting runs late. It’s productive so no one cuts it off. Business is getting conducted.

The clock inexorably ticks towards 7:55: the time our flight leaves for home.

Thus it begins: the extra bit of paranoia.

The meeting wraps up with an hour and a half to go. There is a rental car yet to return. We say goodbyes and plan for upcoming meetings — email and in person are loosely planned for the future.

Arriving at the airport we get to the doors with an hour to go.

Security takes another 10.

Boarding is supposed to be in 20 minutes.

We settle in for a drink and some pizza.

We get drinks. Pizza next.

The queue starts to form.

Check.

Talking.

Queue moves.

It’s around this time that I start to get paranoid.

I don’t like to be late. Meetings. Appointments. Phone calls.

Airplanes.

– = –

I’m writing this somewhere over California at 32,000 feet.

Everyone made it on board.

Who’s right?

– = –

Shrug.

I suppose that everyone is… Different priorities.different worries.