LAX . US AIRWAYS GATE 24
Time bends sometimes. Like it did in the past four weeks. Like it will when my plane sets down on southern California soil tonight at a quarter past midnight PST, a quarter past 3 AM EST. By the time the airport shuttle drops me off in front of my apartment building in Santa Monica, it will be 1 AM PST, 4 AM EST. That's if I'm lucky and I'm the only passenger in the shuttle van. If I'm even luckier, the gibbous moon will be riding high and bright in the night sky, illuminating the incoming waves on my beach.

PHOENIX . 2:30 AM PST . 5:30 AM EST
What did I write 13 hours ago about time bending? Because of a "storm over Pottstown," the pilot announced to the passengers on the full flight to Phoenix, the first leg of my return ticket to LA, we sat on the PHL tarmac for 4-1/2 hours. Storm over Pottstown? I never heard of Pottstown. Two gentlemen with whom I shared Row 10 told me that it's a PA town. Only because of their sense of humor, the laughs we had, did I survive the nightmare of tarmac hell, the
tight quarters, the interminable waiting, the single cup of water given.

We touched down in Phoenix a half hour ago. The best US Airways here could offer me was a seat on a 10:15 morning flight to LAX, 8 whole hours from now. I appealed to the Customer Service desk and was given a standby ticket for the first flight out of here--at 7:45. Show up at 6:45, the rep told me, and I might have a chance. My checked bag to LA might have a chance too. 

Right now, the gate where I'm sitting is empty except for two men stretched out asleep. I may be doing the same in a minute.



PHOENIX . 6:30 AM PST . 9:30 AM EST
Woke up only once during my three-hour-night's sleep, my bed an empty row of attached seats, as long as my six-foot couch at home. Woke up to an already bustling airport, cafes open, travellers having an early bite. I felt like I was in a film that had been freeze-framed when I lay my head down and back in full motion when I opened my eyes. A giddy sensation. But then, since stopping on the Philly tarmac, the entire time-bent night has been a giddy delirium.


PHX . 7:00 AM PST . 10:00 AM EST
A pair of US Airways staff have arrived at Gate A6's counter. All they can tell me is that my name is on the standby list. They are not permitted to tell me where I stand in the queue. The male sourpuss I spoke with must have been the unpopular kid in school, now morphed into a beleaguered, early-morning airport shift worker, who can no longer bear questions from the anxious standby traveller about whether she's number one on the list.