Under a blood red sky

I am writing from Scottsdale where I had a work event today. I was actually here for a similar event two years ago to the day, and I feel like I am reliving that weekend, albeit a few shades shy of 2005's enthusiasm.

Usually when I travel for business I am with at least one other person from my office, or I will be in New York where I have an entire other life and can go out for a night on the town. Here, in the 109 degree desert, I am on my own, and it really is a lonely way to spend a Saturday night. The event ended at 7:00, and I was back in my hotel room by 8:00. I sat out on the balcony for a while, watched as the pink sky deepened behind the mountains, and then decided to take a bath.

I hate baths. I hated them as a kid. I've never had the patience to just sit in a tub of hot water, pruning like a steamed vegetable, with nothing to do but wonder how I could possibly be getting clean when the dirt from my own body is floating right next to me. I much prefer showers. But I'm in a nice hotel, I thought, with nothing but time on my hands. I should try and relax.

I don't actually like relaxing either, it turns out. But I've known that. This isn't the first Saturday night I've spent staying in, but it's one thing to stay comfortably curled up at home with a movie or book; it's quite another to be in a random hotel room with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. Good thing there is a mini-bar.

This morning, as I passed through security at LAX, I heard what sounded, at first, like a large cheer - a tour group, perhaps, shouting in unison their name or newest location. Then, hordes of security guards ran by and we were ordered to stay where we were, we were on some sort of alert. I instinctively went to grab my purse from the x-ray's basin, and was told not to touch it. I am going to die, I thought. This is a bomb scare or a terrorist attack and I am going to die right here in the airport. In the shitty Southwest terminal. Thirty seconds, sixty seconds, who knows how long passed - the terminal was unnaturally silent. Suddenly another chant was heard, a whistle blew, and just like that, things were fine again.

Just another day.