Exploring WaPa, my least favorite neighborhood
Waiting in the airport and/or the WaPa
I'm coming to you live, or as live as one can get in a newsletter, from Boston Logan airport where I am waiting...patiently.
My flight isn't delayed or anything, I am just tired of waiting. I have spent most of the day in something I refer to as The Waiting Place (WaPa).
You may be familiar with The WaPa, but not before known it has a name. The WaPa is a neighborhood in the city-state of Anxiety; a neighborhood in which you can't really focus on anything, time moves slower than frozen molasses, and no map will lead you out of it.
You will likely find yourself in The WaPa when you are waiting for something around which you have emotions. Depending on your citizenship status in the city-state of Anxiety, you might only enter WaPa when you are waiting for something highly emotionally charged, like your wedding or an annual performance review with a really mean boss.
If you're like me though, a full citizen of Anxiety, you may be a part-time resident of WaPa, staying in the neighborhood whenever you are waiting for pretty much anything. A doctor's appointment, the mail person, a friend coming by to pick something up, an email to come through, and so on.
As this trip has approached, I have been in WaPa for almost a week now. I have packed things and then had to unpack them because I still need them. I have tidied my house to a level which I'm sure there are certain items I will not find until the next time I move. I have walked (read: paced) far more steps than normal, closing my rings every day this week.
And now, on the other side of security, with my bag checked, (because I like to live dangerously) and my devices charged up to 100%, I have nothing to do but wander the mental streets of WaPa, thinking about it.
When I am stressed, my brain has a really curious habit of compulsively rewriting lyrics to fit my situation, almost against my will.
Today, I re-imagined the lyrics to “America” from The West Side Story, with full apologies to Leonard Bernstein:
Cleaning my room in the Waiting Place
Distracted on Zoom in the Waiting Place
More time still looms in the Waiting Place
Scrolling through doom in the Waiting Place
Time don’t move right in the Waiting Place
The sky is still light in the Waiting Place
I packed it all, right? in the Waiting Place
My patience is slight in the Waiting Place
the Waiting Place
La, la, la, la, la, la, the Waiting Place
the Waiting Place
Checking the time in the Waiting Place
Yeah sure I’m fine in the Waiting Place
Can’t believe it’s not time in the Waiting Place
I don't think I've ever been this excited about a trip in my life. I assume this is how Disney Adults feel about going to Orlando, or how people who actually trust boats and oceans feel about going on a cruise.
Yesterday, I watched the UCL match between Aston Villa and PSG and thought to myself "the next big match in England, I will be one of the people in the crowd" and got goosebumps. Today, before I took my dog to her friend's house for the trip, I watched the Real Madrid - Arsenal UCL game and all I could think to myself was "By this time tomorrow, I will be at a match." And not just any match, a UEL match that could go as far as penalty kicks, something I have never seen in person. I'm assuming it will be even worse to experience in person.
(If you are not familiar, penalty kicks aka PKs are the cruelest thing in football. They are 100% psychological. Every single player can make a PK when there's no pressure. It's the pressure and mind games, after 120 minutes of running your guts out, that make a difference. At the end of the day, PKs are essentially settling a football match with a series of cruel coin flips.)
So now, here I am, listening to boarding announcements, waiting until someone calls my plane, and announces it's time for me to get in the very large metal tube with a bunch of strangers who will be my compatriots for the next 7 hours while we fly across an ocean…
As an aside, while I'm in the air, the inaugural match of the Northern Super League, Canada's new women's football league, will kick off. My friend will be in attendance after I gently bullied them to do so, and I will be jealous, but thrilled that there's a new women's football league being born. If you're reading this on the evening of March 16th: The match will be streaming on NSL in Canada and ESPN+ in the US. If you're anywhere else, you're SOL, but just know it's happening and send everyone's ACLs good wishes.
Now, I guess it’s back to wandering WaPa and wondering if that new matcha place on the corner means gentrification is coming. And what gentrification looks like in the city-state of Anxiety. Have I stretched this metaphor to its breaking point yet?