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April 24, 2006
I've been stuck in the Indianapolis airport for 3 hours now and at least 1 more to go. You don't really actually want to fly on bankrupt airlines. A pregnant woman walks by, buoyant and huge and well-rounded. Overhead, the fluorescents are humming madly like torture. Scouring for music on the laptop. Brain a little distended. Guy who looks like Tom Cruise sits across from me. My hands are aging, mottled, grotesque. Everyone leaves, they have changed the boarding gate. The entire area empties, it's again as it has remained, a terminal seeking to insure that I get stuck here interminably.