J'attends mon vol

Waiting. In lines. For a plane. For a call. Just waiting.

I am incredibly good at waiting. In fact, and this may sound a little nutty, I like waiting.

In fact, when I have a chance to choose which line to stand in, on the outside it would appear that I always choose wrong as I manage to find the most snail-paced, interminable line. It doesn't bother me one bit. There's an art to waiting and it combines a desire to breathe deeply then explore the minutia of one's immediate surroundings. Waiting offers unexpected time to think, to solve problems. Sometimes, waiting allows me to listen in on private conversations, to step for a brief moment into others' shoes. Waiting in line at the grocery store allows me to practice math in my head as I calculate carb or calorie counts in other shopping carts. Also to read headlines in tabloid mags I wouldn't be caught reading. Waiting in line in an airport gives me a chance to study fashionable outfits, check out people's shoe choices, then take a look at myself and assess how I stand up those who I consider to be well put together. There are always valuable takeaways from waiting. I am waiting now.