Elevated

I am convinced that when you fly in to Dallas/Fort Worth there is someone behind a curtain determining the farthest gate for you to have to get to for a connecting flight and then assigning it to you.

I have polled dozens of people on this
including the breathless woman who sat next to me on the plane yesterday having raced from Terminal A to Terminal D barely hitting her seat as the plane began to taxi.

You see, at DFW, there is between you and your next flight, a train and an almost vertical escalator.

About that escalator....

I watched my fellow travelers struggling with strollers, carry-ons, screaming children,

Vente Starbucks and other traveling paraphernalia getting on that escalator.

They followed each other as though an invisible beam were drawingg them.

Now, admittedly, I do not like escalators, and perhaps that is what drew my eyes around for another mode of transportation.

And there it was- shining like a beacon-

an elevator.

I strolled over, got in, pushed the level that said "to train" and

had an uneventful and blissfully quiet ride up, stepping off in time to see my fellow travelers tugging, pulling and otherwise trying to disengage from the mechanical stairs.

Emerson said:

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

So go!

Blaze a trail.

Find your own way up!

And that's poetiquejustis.