Airports are a special place. People come and go but most of all people wait. The latter happened to me as well. No chance of flying into London. What can you do but hope it all will work out. I decided to read and get myself carried away by the humor of the author. But there is something about airports. It is hard for me to concentrate, no matter how funny these stories are. Soon my eyes started wandering around and started inspecting my fellow passengers. If something were to happen, you'd better make sure who you will be spending your last moments with. I noticed that if this were the case, at least I would have shared my last hours with a bunch of old rockers. They definitely looked like a rockband: half of them with long, a little too colored hair, a slightly weathered skin, colorful tattoos and the necessary bling on their fingers. The other half was a bit more sober wearing the famous English mullet, bald heads and beer bellies. But no matter how famous they are, they were condemned to the chairs in the lounge as well. At least, they made our group of waiting passengers a bit more colorful. It was even a bit exciting, especially when one of them suddenly started talking to me. "Love your funky shoes. Where did you buy them? " 'Paris' was the correct answer. How funky can a woman be: bright blue shoes from Paris. The conversation got started and we were sharing a piece of our lives. "What will I be doing in Cape Town? I will be writing on Cape Town for my master thesis in anthropology. It sounds f * 'exciting'. What will you be writing? "I remained speechless. What will I write? Telling stories about people in the city, I replied. "Which people?" I am really not that sure. Perhaps I could write stories about you, guys. This could be a great idea. If I would miss my connection to Cape Town I could still accompany them to Newcastle. Live on the road with fossils of the rock ... It would be a fun experience, and perhaps more exciting than the seniors of Cape Town I had in mind. But the dream was short lived. I catched my flight to Cape Town. The rocking seniors of Thin Lizzy did their show and I'm sitting in my room dreaming of stories about Capetonians. How 'f *' funky life could be.
