Killing time at SFO

I’m traveling East today to visit my father in Delaware.  There’s fog, snow or both in Chicago so I am cooling my heels here at SFO, since my flights are going to be three hours late.  I brought reading material, and am in a bit of a hurry to get back to “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Its off to a wonderful start.  I found a spot to sit away from all the hubbub of similarly delayed travelers complete with electrical outlet, that Holy Grail of electronic gadget addicts.  I also happen to be within shouting distance of the Free Speech Booth which I presume is some quid pro quo on the airport’s part to both allow and yet constrain groups which want to hand out leaflets or solicit funds at the airport.  I always hurry by this booth ignoring the people’s cries of “Need some help?” or “Can I ask you a question?”.  I don’t trust myself to wriggle out gracefully if the discussion actually turns out to be less brief than promised.  I am thusly interested in the substantial proportion of people who do go up and have their brief discussion.  Most seem to be using it as an information booth, and they seem happy to oblige.  Maybe its only in my mind that these places are staffed by kooky cults and shady homophobic charity groups.

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