Orange Featureless Night

Out the window, I saw the tarmac lights throwing down a flat orange glow on the wing of the plane. Puddles of dark water sat motionless on the pavement. The silhouette of a building on the far side of the terminal stood against a featureless sky.

For a moment, nothing moved. I was on the set of a play with no one else on stage. No baggage handlers. Nobody pumping jet fuel. No one doing anything.

Then in the distance, between the terminal and that distant silhouette of a building, a tram rolled by on its elevated track: two push-me/pull-you cars gliding silently in a flat featureless night, its windows shining white. If there were people inside, I did not see them.

Nothing moved except for the tram, and now the silent stage felt more like a special effects backdrop for the city-of-the-future in some sci-fi movie from the 1940s.

It made me chuckle. It made me shake my head. You tell me why.

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Layover at DFW on the way to Cape Canaveral.

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