Portrait of Travel Day from Hell, but with No Mood Drugs in the Form of Sticky Patches to Help Deal with the Emotions, like in that “Gridlock” Episode from Doctor Who

All roads lead to Rome, or
back to the terminal in the
concourse where your original

departing flight was to leave
exactly on schedule—Except
flash floods on the ground in

Georgia meant a band of storms
heaving violently over the map,
interrupting all plans. Didn't you

just drop your bags off? Do you
know where they are at this point?
Loneliness is waiting with so

many others, & realizing the
names taken by the agent
off the standby list aren't

plenipotentiarily yours. In
queue again: but for what, you're
really not sure anymore. There's no

semblance of logic except the swift
topple of dominoes. All the world's
Uber drivers circle arrivals, none

vacant for long. You're still stuck.
Weather's the culprit this time: not
xenophobes, not the perpetual gridlock

you remember from Doctor Who—hover vans
zooming around, looking for the fast lane.

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