Parabola
The airport security line wound its way like an amusement-park ride through Terminal C. The line was moving caterpillar-like, unhurried. Some of the people in the line fidgeted and stared every direction, measuring the caterpillar's progress by the big clock on the wall. These were the passengers whose flights were leaving soon. You could read each passenger's face and in an instant know how desperate he or she was. The desperate ones plainly wished the big caterpillar would hurry up. But most passengers, like the caterpillar they formed, shuffled along with that particular type of stoic boredom you only find in airport security lines and waiting rooms at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Most of them simply switched off, and did their best to leave their bodies behind while the minutes ticked by. A little sign by the velvet-roped entrance told arriving passengers the wait was 45 minutes. At this moment the line was in perfect working order, and nobody was more contented b