jakkarth

I'm in an airport, on my way to catch a flight. I'm wearing my travel backpack with my laptop and other items on my back. I'm in an open space in a concourse, waiting in line for the escalator. There are floor to ceiling windows to my left, letting in a lot of light, but I don't look through them to see beyond. Waiting for the escalator is out of character for me, so I look around for stairs, but this is the only way up the 6 feet to the rest of the concourse. People are going up the escalator one at a time, waiting for the person ahead of them to get off at the top before getting on themselves. I realize this is not how escalator etiquette works, and at the same time everyone else in line ahead and behind me realizes it as well, and we all push forward and use it like normal.

Now I'm at the top and walking fast. I don't feel particularly rushed, I just want to get where I'm going. As I walk, the rhythm of my steps puts a song in my head. I start humming the tune quietly. In my left hand, I'm holding a coil of 2.5" shop vacuum hose, and in my right some kind of weird blue-green rubber hose. I don't think this is strange in the dream. A good part of the song comes up and I do a little 360 turn without breaking stride. As I'm facing backwards I notice that some of the other people walking with me from the escalator, strangers, are looking at me funny. I realize that walking through an airport with strange hoses in my hands is a bit abnormal and they may be concerned, so I finish turning around and hum more quietly.

I'm coming up to a right turn. Ahead of me pointing left are some automatic walkway conveyer belt things, like moving sidewalks. I see Michael J Fox walking to get onto one. I'm surprised by how smoothly he's walking. I decide not to say anything because I think it would be rude. I hear someone behind me say "Oh, it's Marty!" pretty loudly behind me. I repeat the phrase under my breath with a smile on my face.

My route now somehow requires me to go through some restaurant seating areas. I think I must have made a wrong turn somewhere. I look up and see a sign with my gate number 17 and an arrow telling me to continue this direction, so I do. An adolescent male sees me and says "Hey, you look like MacGyver." I realize he's talking about how long my hair has gotten. Just then, Richard Dean Anderson turns around looking just like he did in MacGyver season 2, mullet and all, and he starts a bit when he sees me. I say "Hey, it's me!" He still looks surprised as I walk on, weaving my way through people and tables.

I've had to go up to the second story. There's an empty little bar section here. Some previous patron has left his drink on the bar. I need to get down to the first level to continue to my gate. I move over the bar and grab the upside down cloth handle to a reusable shopping bag suspended from the ceiling. It's got an automatic winch in it that slowly lowers me to the floor. As I go down, suspended by my left hand, I wonder if I should have put a tip next to the abandoned glass at the bar above. I don't know if I'm causing the restaurant trouble by doing what I'm doing.

Now I'm in a generic inner hallway, and I bump into E, whom I haven't seen since his Army Special Forces graduation ceremony. He's muscly and has the Army haircut. He seems to think we had planned to meet during our mutual layovers at this airport, but I don't recall setting up a plan like that. He wants to ask me about our matching USB thumb drives we keep on our keychains, and how 8gb isn't enough so he's going to upgrade to 32.