Airports, a place of comfortable transience, a hub for tax free commerce, a collective of fast food kiosks, an oasis to bond with strangers, a place to escape the daily routine, a spot where you can relax in a restaurant for hours awaiting the next flying machine without being rushed out the door.  Everyone here is going somewhere, nobody here is an a hurry.  The connecting flight might not be for another a half day, some block of time that has long lost meaning in this place of continuance; everyone is collectively and peacefully waiting.  It’s a land that exists within walls, a place where once you enter, you can only exit through the clouds.  Time has a different attitude in this plain of waiting, of anticipation, of expecting the glory of vacation.  Just outside the city, there is none of the bustle of the city life.

You can have a beer for breakfast because for someone that just might be dinner time.   Here you suspend your expectations, pause your priorities, enjoy the temporary time of anticipation.