Traveling light

I always forget about the closeness of people until they're right up against me in an airport security line.The foul of the air; acquiescing to the guard's frantic instructions -- the bustle of disrobing coats and unlacing of boots, unpacking laptops, and herding oneself into the corral of metal detectors and wands. And the bumping. Sometimes a muffled apology, other times a grunt, and a cart at my heel.

But we still do it. Because of adventure, necessity, or perhaps the spending of something new.