I have become that person sitting in an airport at midnight using her laptop. To be fair, I am reading West Wing fanfic and writing this journal entry, but nonetheless I am sitting in an airport with my laptop. On my way to Tashkent.

It is always midsummer in this airport. Hot and dry. I have learned to wear a tank top and layers so I can strip to minimal clothing once settled into a chair. I have also learned to carry a bottle of water, since all the sweating dries me right out and the cost of water is exorbitant if you buy it in the here. The PA system is playing the Titanic song. The lounge I’m sitting in is inexplicably full of Indians. (the subcontinent kind) It is always, every time I’ve been here, in explicably full of Indians. Especially Sikhs.

They just changed the music to Punjabi hip-hop. This is so totally the party room. The other lounge is full of people staring dully into space. Here, they’re drinking tea and beer, walking around the room to socialize, sprawled out sleeping on chairs and clustered in corners. This room rules.

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USAID is one of many donors for the project I work for. The views expressed herein are the author’s own views and do not necessarily reflect those of the author’s employer or especially those of the United States Agency for International Development or the United States Government. And I mean it. I probably give the US government heart attacks.