There are two black women in their mid-twenties sleeping on the floor, passing the time in that way using their carry-on bags as pillows.
There is the couple flying home after their Florida vacation that I sat next to on the plane. She enjoys crosswords and he wants to design hotels for Holiday Inn.
There is a girl my age reading a magazine and listening to a blue iPod. She is casual, comfortable with being here.
There's the young parents and their two kids. The boy looks about nine and the girl is about four. She's climbing on the chairs as her mother reads a thick book and looks around. The boy is playing a DS that his father also enjoys.
There is another older woman sitting down from me drinking a smart water looking bored and tired.
There is an older man who speaks a language other than English and looks like he's from the middle east. He kept talking on the phone.
There is a blonde athletic looking boy of about fifteen playing on his laptop.
There's the man standing anxiously by the window alternating between reading a book and staring out the window.
Then there's me, the girl in her early twenties reading a paperback with headphones in. wearing a low-cut dress and constantly looking at people. She pulls a notebook out of her purse and begins to frantically write. No one even notices.
We are taught not to stare, to mind our own business. I guess this is the job of writers. To stare, to look into other people's lives and try to figure out who they are, their likes and dislikes.