Lets drop this pretence for a moment. Start again. I am heading somewhere, excuse me, sorry, excuse me – I am flying to marry my husband, via Find Him First. Everyone suggested a direct flight but no, at least you get a few stops offs and it’s a lot cheaper. Or I am flying to Satisfaction. Check-in desk for Notoriety now closed. Astronomical Wealth, only one flight a week, always sold out. Exclusive island. Gate number for last flight to That Perfect Job, Final Boarding to a Better Car. Delayed flight to Health and Well Being? We can’t get there by going. These things are not the destination, these things are the flight. And in the meantime, it’s costing the earth as we all know. It’s not the flight that does it, that costs the earth, it’s our thinking that Manage My Booking has nothing to do with anyone else. I am a philosopher by trade. That’s why I am wearing this suit.I don’t exist. There’s no job description for a dancing philosopher. Not a dance philosopher, some of those are still employed, no, no – a dancing philosopher. *** This queue is like…it’s like queueing for the Ark. These two have only just met, business suit and skirted flirt, these two must be about 12, mouths stuck together, bumbling forward, these two are having a dirty weekend, these two aren’t, these two are first time travellers, look at the way the cling to each other, these two must have been married for decades, look at the way they ignore each other, share a stare out at the world, they’ve caught me looking, these two are clearly cooling off in this queue, some big bust up, the way she just pulled her hand away, the way he runs his fingers through his hair, the way he kicks at the barrier and bottles his rage, the way she is staring straight ahead, the way she tries to shuffle forward far away from him, but can only move a few inches, these two I can’t quite see but they are too two…..