True Life I Live In An Airport

I am currently at the Paris airport ready to board my flight home. There’s only one problem: it’s not until tomorrow.

I wish I could say there was some perfectly understandable reason why I messed up the date of my flight. You know, like the ticket was in another language or I went temporarily blind or something. But alas, turns out I’m just an idiot with questionable reading skills.

Due to a combination of laziness/fatigue/desire to prove that I could make it on the streets, I have decided to stay in the airport for the next 24 hours until my flight. I will be keeping a running account of the adventures (or lack thereof) that take place:

Hour 1: I am already bored. I have decided to keep this running log of the next day in order to keep myself occupied and to have something chronicling my last profound thoughts just in case something happens to me here. Moving sidewalks can be dangerous under extreme conditions such as these.

Seeing as I will be saving money by not paying for a hotel room, I decided to indulge myself and buy a few survival basics: a Jodie Picoult book,  a neck pillow, and some microwaveable chicken wings.

I have found a cozy nook with an outlet and free wifi and used my suitcases to barricade myself in. There is a rather large plant next to me, perfect for blending into my surroundings. I am sitting right by a window and there is a rather toothy Frenchman outside smoking a cigarette and grinning at me frequently. It is beginning to creep me out, but I have chosen not to move in the hopes that he will soon leave.

One hour down, twenty three to go.

Feel free to offer ideas for keeping myself occupied. My only stipulation is that they not result in my arrest.

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