The announcements made over the intercom blurred together into a general moan that felt like it was being pulled from the pit of Calvin’s gut. He slumped at the bar, his head resting in the crook of his arm, his breathing slow. It was nearly 8 pm, and he had more or less maintained this seat at the bar since sitting down. Even when he left to argue with gate agents, that same seat was open when he came back.
After he failed to make it on the second flight, he moved from beer to something stronger. He had talked with a random assortment of fellow drinkers throughout the day, passing stories of woe back and forth. It was strange to Calvin that hardly anyone continued to drink by him for long once they started talking.
He continued to take slow, deep breaths as the rumblings of a hangover began to sweep through his body, as he lifted his head to take another sip. There was a thrumming through his mind, that matched with the orange, flashing column of delays that dotted the flight screens to his left. He closed his eyes, wanting more than anything to be able to stretch out somewhere, sleep, and wake up somewhere else. He lifted his head again and drained his glass.
The bartender overfilled the beer he was pouring, as he was distracted by the grumbly patron at the end of the bar, finishing his drink, before sitting straight up. His eyes were clear, or at least clearer than he would expect from a drunk who had started drinking almost 12 hours earlier. The bartender cursed as he felt the cold beer overflowing onto his hand. When he looked back, the man was gone, save for a few crumpled bills along with a pile of balled up napkins.
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It felt to Calvin that he had gotten a second wind. More than a second wind, it felt as if he had molted a part of himself, and with that lightness in his step he made his way confidently toward the gate agent.
The gate agent wouldn’t normally have recalled a customer like Calvin. Certainly not after their earlier interaction. On a day like this, it was easier to put on a face, smile and nod, as one customer after another berated her for something that was far beyond her control. When she saw him striding up to her, she tensed, her smile hardening into a grimace.
“How are you doing?”
The question was so innocuous, that it took the agent a moment to untangle the memorized apology that no, there were no updates regarding the flight. “Oh, I’m alright. How can I help you?”
Calvin felt himself smile at the confused agent, not completely understanding why. “I just wanted to come over and apologize for my behavior. It’s been a tough day, but I had no right to take it out on you.”
“It’s alright. I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck here for so long.”
“No apologies necessary. In all honesty, I’m just getting a little restless. Do you think that the flight will be able to get out tonight, or would I be better off going home?”
“Oh, well. I think the flight should be leaving tonight. What was your name?” The agent typed it quickly into her computer. “You’re on the waitlist.” A cursive glanced, before typing something quickly. “I just moved you up the list. You’ll definitely get out of here tonight.”
“Thank you.” Calvin walked over to a rare open seat in the terminal, and sat down. He smiled again at the gate agent who smiled back at him. It was an odd feeling he had. Maybe he hadn’t just let go of a part of himself. Maybe something had grown in its place.