Being at an airport at night is a very different experience.
The absence of people arriving and leaving in a place defined by transitions is a bizarre type of identity crisis.

My sister hopped on a travelator today expecting it to move, but it didn’t, so we walked it to the end.
That’s the night time airport experience in a nutshell. A stationary travelator. 

We left Toronto at 2AM local time and arrived in Taoyuan, Taiwan 4AM local time.
From morning to morning. As though we lost a whole day.
Toronto was beginning its night.
Taoyuan was ending it.

I like roaming empty hallways. I like listening to the sound of my slapping flip flops.
I walked by a restaurant at 5AM, closed of course, but heard the tinkering of livelihood behind the counter.
How nice to experience the rhythm of those who live out their careers and lives in this space.

There is a toddler on the couch across from me.
She can make agreeing and disagreeing sounds.
She has her hair up in a ponytail that looks like a pineapple head and wrapped in a pink polka dot bow.
She is on my flight.
We will subsequently step foot into the same city together.
I wonder what her story will be.

We watch the day arrive from the Boarding Gate lounge.
Signs of life increasing with each minute.
Hear the unlocking of gates and watch the increased number of people walk by.
I also hear the birds.
Little birds in a field of giant mechanical birds.

I am an hour and a half away from another airport. I can already hear the sound of moving travelators.
Behind me the first store has opened.
Time gets pretty confusing here.

I don’t know what day to count all of this.