I should have started Smoking a lot sooner

"Please do not leave your baggage unattended in the airport."
Sandra breathed out smoke. "Life is so short, I really should have started smoking a lot sooner."
"If you see an unattended or suspicious package, report it to airport security immediately."
"Why didn't you ever tell me these things were so good?"

The Bush International Airport is awash in commuter traffic. People and parcels moving up and down its corridors, each in a rush. Along the wall, a swatch of the carpet is red, and sitting down, right on the floor, is an old woman smoking a cigarette.

Travellers pass this old woman with a sneer. Mothers shelter their children violently from the smoke wafting in the eddies of their own hurry.

This woman, this old woman, is nicely dressed, and laying on the floor. She is wearing pearl earrings, and a finely embroidered blouse. Her Italian white leather shoes are lying on the floor, a few steps past her feet, where they've been kicked and scuffed by passers by. In other words, she is well taken care off. She looks like the wife of a wealthy, retired man. She probably lives in a large home full of expensive things, and she has no business bringing her little problems out here into the real world, where they can get in the way of real people.

This old woman, Sandra, is almost lying down. She is on the ground, leaning against the wall, with her feet splayed out infront of her. This woman, is blocking almost four feet of space with her legs, and her smoke. Travellers, commuters, whole families need to stop in their tracks and navigate around her and her smoke. But she doesn't even acknowledge them.

"Please do not stand in the red carped area. The red carpeted area is for emergency traffic only."
"I know dear, you keep telling me that, but I'm your mother, and I'll only be here for a short while. Let me finish my cigarette." She takes a long drag. "Your father's left again. He's taken a job moving a sailboat from Guam to god knows where, and he told me he won't be back for 13 weeks. Jesus, what did I do to drive him away? He's always been a man of simple needs, but have I been neglectful? Did I not give him enough? You've always been so much smarter than me, what do you think?"

She pauses shortly, hoping for an answer from the loudspeaker overhead, then ashes her cigarette on the carpet.

"He says he's in love with the sea. God, Amy, I'm losing him to a metaphor."

"The white area is for loading and unloading only. Unattended vehicles will be ticketed and towed," says the recorded voice.

"You were such a pretty girl," she says with a sigh, and tries to ash her cigarette again.

"He's not taking it well, your father. You know how he can get. He hasn't really slept in two weeks, and he's been keeping me up. It's not that I blame you dear, but this was really a bad time." She takes a last pull from the cigarette, then stubbs it into the carpet. She pulls another from the pack.

Speaking to no one in particular, she says while lighting up, "You know I hate to use strong language, but we're dissapointed in you, dear." A pair of polished boots stops next to her, and refuses to change it's course. She takes a drag.

"Ma'am, you've got to go outside to smoke," says a masculine voice belonging to the boots.

Sandra puts on her best innocent face, but doesn't look him in the eyes. He's a young security guard, about the age of her daughter. She imagines a family dinner in the future, where one day, perhaps Amy could have brought him home. "Can't you see I'm an old woman? Please let me have a moment alone so I can... catch my breath."

"I'm sorry ma'am," he says with his hand resting on a belt buckle shaped like texas, "but you're blocking traffic. And there's no smoking in Bush International."

Sandra looks at him, and sees his face. And she can see that beyond those boots, and on the other side of that obnoxious belt buckle, is just a young man trying to do his job. But his job is to get her to move. Maybe take her outside, into the heat, away from her daughter's voice. And that is not something she can deal with right now.

"I've got to wait here, for my husband," she said, doing her very best to create a believable lie.

The young security guard takes a long breath, and speaks as though he is reading from a manual: "We have designated smoking areas, and you are not allowed to block traffic in the red zone. You can take a seat in any of the chairs, and you can smoke outside, at least 20 feet away from the building." He says all this, watching her shoes get kicked just a little further away.

"Did you know my daughter?" she says, standing up, looking for his eyes.
"No ma'am. I don't know anyone's daughter. Will you please leave the red zone?"
"She used to work here." Please, just see me.
"Ma'am, you've got to leave."








Mother is having a difficult time dealing with the suicide of her daughter, 2 weeks ago. Father is leaving, and she has no one left to keep her company in this difficult time. She is concerned that she will not survive the next 3 months because of her emotional stress, and has gone to the Airport, where her daughter used to work, so she can hear her daughter's voice again.
She is clearly causing trouble, and is going to be forcibly removed by security staff, who will say in no uncertain terms that she does is not wanted. this parellels her own life, where her husband is leaving, and her daughter has left, and will ultimately leave us wondering if she is really going to die from grief.