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  • “What happens in a certain place can stain your feelings for that location, just as ink can stain a white sheet. You can wash it, and wash it, and still never forget what has transpired - a word which here means 'happened, and made everybody sad'.” --Lemony Snicket

    I arrived at the airport wearing a bright salmon pink hoodie.
    It was a Thursday. I knew you were getting off work and fighting traffic to come get me.
    Pacing. Watching the sun set. I had flown 1800 miles to see you, simply because you invited me over three months previously. Two train stations, two airports, and a McDonald's in between for a Shamrock Shake meant I was really racking up the foursquare points.
    I had no idea how I was going to tell it was you... it had been six years since your last visit. I didn't know what car you drove. "Just look for the girl in the bright pink hoodie." I said, thinking I would blend in with the post-Mardi Gras crowd. But aside from the leather daddies, glitter moms, and tranny triads in taxis boarding planes back to reality I was the most colorful character in the airport that day.
    I waited about 45 minutes. From what you told me later, not bad for New Orleans traffic to the Louis Armstrong Airport.
    A dark blue car pull up.
    It was you. All six foot three of you. All light brown hair formerly in a pony tail cut short, limbs long and lean, blue EMT uniform blending in with your car bits of you.
    You met me at the curb at we fell into a long hug.
    Your arms were a city I never wanted to leave.
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