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Show 49 Fourteen Annis arrives at the airport in an ancient, cavernous Checker cab, whose sullen driver deposits her suitcase on the sidewalk without ceremony. She finds herself inside; it is a large, old airport, various other wings of which have been redecorated with brightly painted walls and equally bright carpets, but this particular portion of the airport has not. She checks her ticket near the entrance to the plane; the noise of the passengers and the engines of the planes in which they will depart echoes hollowly against the grimy walls, and her back begins to ache with standing. Ahead of her in line, an enormously old and nearly blind woman is lifted from her wheelchair by two efficiently trained attendants onto a mechanized loading chair, and the wheelchair itself is folded and carried up the ramp. Parents carry babies which will begin to squall when the plane's engines are revved up; honeymooning couples and middle-aged retirees slouch in line, impatient to spread themselves out in seats and unfold their tourist maps of London. It occurs to her that she may be the only one on the plane both content to go, and content to return. |