A day of airports amidst thousands of travelers, all going somewhere for something. Milling about, sitting around, hunting for the rare and exotic two-slitted power givers. Many seated with distant eyes, a beer and a BlackBerry on their tables in a sports-themed pub with backs to the runway.
Luggage has been made to roll through airport terminals. On the glossy, perfectly level, geometrically smooth surfaces. Small, even tiny, wheels that glide silently with little effort in such habitats.
But outside of those double sliding doors, rolling baggage turns difficult. Loud, unwieldy, barely able to make the journey across the chasm between squares of sidewalk. Larger wheels can’t be that hard, can they?
On distorted travel time.