Almost Manhattan

You are riding a tram at the Newark, New Jersey airport. You are not supposed to be here. This was not in the travel brochure you had flipped through in your head, while enjoying the complimentary beverage and ice cubes aboard your Continental airbus. You are tired, trying to hold it together, but growing a little desperate. Your connecting flight was cancelled. No one explains why. You have joined a growing swell of weary travelers, who waited for the tram with you, frowning, squinting, dragging their carry-on behind them. You fought them at the ticket counter, fought them back with sticks, so you could get boarding passes for your family on the next flight out in the morning. You fought them at the phone kiosk for a hotel room. Now these same people are riding with you above the airport on little tracks. The tram jostles you but you are stone-faced. You will not let these people see any hint of weakness. For your next battle is coming and it will be a knock-down, drag-out fight over hotel shuttles. Then, all of a sudden, you turn your head and see the lights of New York City!  Manhattan against the night sky. You hear Gershwin. She's a beauty, all lit up and beckoning. Come on, she's saying, get on over here. I'm right here --so close!---what are you waiting for? And oh how you want to do it. You  could catch a train into Manhattan and stay up all night, just walking around. You could do that very thing.

Sigh. Just a few hours earlier, and you might have.