I slept a little, but the airport was small and the terminal was narrow. Soon it was too noisy to sleep in. And so I rested a bit more, then found some coffee and reacquainted myself with the old Midway.

Coffee in hand, a pastry in my pocket, and with several hours to kill, I pushed my way through the terminal, searching for an airport bookstore. The airport was primitive compared to ours, but the needs of its human travelers were the same, and I eventually found what I sought.

The book titles were a bit more serious that ours, but still with plenty of vapid ones. I did, however, stumble upon a book that surprised me; it was called The Apostle, the second in a series by a Jewish author on the subject of Christianity. That took me by surprise, and as I glanced through the book, I couldn't help but admire him. Regardless of a few errors I noticed, I was greatly impressed that he was attempting to rejoin Judaism and Christianity in an era that wasn't seeking such a message.

I bought the book, made my way to my gate, and found a lonely place to sit and read.