returning from Raleigh

I’m at the airport in Raliegh/Durham (RDU – although I’ve no idea what the U is for)
I’m watching a mother (or possibly a sister) sitting with two boys, one about 17, the other maybe 14. Her entire energy is devoted to trying to take pictures of the 17-year-old with her cell phone. she sits between them aiming her camera at him by holding it out and pointing it at him. She does not look a the screen. The 14-year-old tries to foil her picture taking by swinging his hand out in front of the phone as she points it. The 17-year-old devotes most of his energy to trying to avoid a good picture. He holds his hand up in front of his face. He turns his head away. He turns to look at her with eyes half closed as if badly hung over.

But although his motions tell the tale of someone who doesn’t want a photo taken, every time she snaps one he leans in to look with her at the tiny screen and see what she has captured.

She seems old enough to be their mother, but might not be. She and the young boy keep engaging in a slapping contest. They all have similar looks, tall and thin (except for the adolescent boy). She is inked with tattoos of a dragon and and eagle crawling up her lower leg.

Behind me in the rows facing one another are about ten grown men exercising their testosterone; carrying on in loud resonant voices filled with privileged laughter and audible winking. The tannest one among them has a sharp haircut and a Bluetooth fastened in his ear. Every single one of them is wearing shorts. Hard to imagine more obnoxiousness than this.

They’ve called my flight and we are lining up by our “position” numbers. Southwest no longer relies on groups A, B, and C, but now assigns actual boarding positions. This, I assume, is to finally stop the entire boarding group from rejecting seats in favor of queuing up on the floor. I’m off to board in the 29th position.