I spent last night talking with my best friend over some white zinfandel. I went to bed at about 1:30 AM-ish, while she stayed awake and got ready to depart to Iowa. She woke me up at about 4:20 AM, and we left for the LAX. It was a quick drive, quite painless, because of the car pool lane, and because it was during ungodly AM hours on a Saturday morning. I think 5 AM is about as bad as it gets -- it's like the witching hour, for me at least. We got to the airport at about 5:30 AM, it was a brisk half-hour drive.

I haven't seen many airports in my life, but I think from the few I've seen (and I've seen a couple of large ones) LAX is the prettiest. It always provokes nostalgia in the sweetest way, like the Solomon's Seal Tea that reminds me of Korea as it warms me to my feet. The entrance is marked by large columns -- they are made from a unique material, half transparent and yet half opaque, and during the dark hours it is lighted, and the larger than life poles, surrounding the larger than life letters "LAX" glow in various colors, a soft green, a humble blue, sometimes a mild magenta. I usually end up going to the LAX either late at night or early in the morning, like I did today. The wee hours of the morning is the best time to be at the LAX. It is still filled with a flood of people, all rushing to get somewhere, and yet there is a sense of peace -- it is quiet, as though the cool air mutes the crowd.

There were signs stating a heightened security alert, and the LAX Police all over, roaming the airport like dark black ants crawling on the asphalt. They even stopped my car and searched the trunk, and scanned the bottom of my car for potential bombs and weapons. But there is a powerful force of the LAX that makes it not as harsh as it sounds.

We didn't find the airport to be busy, so we decided to have breakfast at Denny's -- we planned to have breakfast every time but never find that time, but after years of waiting, we finally do have that time. We don't say much. The potential "good-bye" is looming, but it is sometimes good to procrastinate it. We quickly have bites to eat and go back to the LAX to drop off her luggage. By 6:50 AM we are done, and she lingers at the entrance for passengers only -- she has an hour until her flight, and we debate whether we should wait a few minutes or perhaps she should just go. The thought process is made instantaneously, and without saying so, we just give each other a half-assed hug. It's not the complete hug that we shared when we met just 3 weeks ago. It is quick, and we don't even hold each other much. If all good-byes were so painless!

She turns around and makes her way in, and at the same rate I turn around and exit the building. I turn around and linger in the doorway, hoping to be able to wave good-bye once, but decide against it because a sudden surge of hot tears filled my eyes. I blink to prevent it from flooding, and quickly walk away, as though if I didn't, I'd go back in and cry.

It was an ethereal morning, for which I am thankful. The pink sunrise gave my eyes much pleasure, and the drive home was mildly pleasant as well. It had only been a few minutes since I left her, and it was dark then. At 7AM it was bright, filled with daylight. It gave me a renewed feeling, like I just came back from the fountain of youth. I thought about how I don't know when I'll see my best friend next. She might come back in the summer, then again, perhaps not. Either way life goes on, with or without me, so I just have to tag along. I submerge into an hour long blissful sleep before I re-enter the realm of the bustling society. I had just stopped to smell the roses, and they smelled celestial. It was just too bad that they were more ephemeral than anything.