This is an excerpt from my diary. For some reason, I was super proud of it.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009 2247 hrs
One year ago today, I sat in Terminal C of Ronald Reagan National Airport reading The Appeal by John Grisham and eating churros (from Cinnabon, I believe). That was a long Sunday. I spent something like six or seven hours alone in that airport. It holds a lot of meaning for me.
When I think of it, powerful emotions awake that I almost never feel. I don't understand them properly at all. I'm not sure where I'd even begin trying. It was a time when I was independent and free. I value independence and freedom, but I've experienced those things at other times, too. [redacted to protect the innocent; they might know whom they are] The architecture of parts of that airport is stunning, having a strange, ethereal quality that almost seems to convey me across time and space. There's also the mental link I hold between that place and Portable Ops, but it's an oddly transcendental one that shouldn't affect me quite like this.
It's one of the most important places in the world, and it's our first anniversary. Many happy returns, hein?