Excerpt from this post...
After escaping security at the Salt Lake City airport, I experienced the airport terminal like I doubt I had ever before. Most of the time, I am the person who knows what to do, where to go and is on a mission to get through security and the crowds of people to reach my gate. That night, I took my time…. observing the quiet stacks of chair and the abandoned Cinnabons and Starbucks stands. I walked very slowly, soaking in the rare emptiness of the airport. On the people-mover, for the first time, instead of walking on the left and excusing myself past slow, unaware travelers like I always do, I stood on the right appreciating the pure peace of riding it with no one around. As I listened to the quiet hum of floor cleaning machines, I passed wing after wing with zero fellow travelers in sight. Shear bliss. When I arrived at my gate, E79, at midnight, I discovered the airport-overnight-sleeping-sign-of-death: armrests between every seat, meaning I had to sleep on the floor. I thought I’d be okay because during my entire stay in the Dominican Republic and Haiti, I slept on a comforter on a tile floor and had grown accustomed to sleeping very soundly on the floor. But I soon discovered quite the contrary. The floor was death. So as I tried to sleep, I imagined myself, like Tom Hanks, dismantling and removing the armrests and pulling two facing rows of padded chairs side-by-side to create a bed. A little smile grew on my face imagining all the ruckus I’d start if I actually did it.
At some point I woke up to find jets and small planes scattered near the gates. The bright lights outside illuminated the falling raining being swept by the wind. I felt the same wonder I experience when I see fireworks light up a pitch black sky. Everything glistened.