At the moment we are stuck in purgatory.
Which happens to be the name of a ski area in Colorado
that claims to be close to heaven and fun as hell. 

We are in airport purgatory, 
which is neither of those things.

This predicament is all part of the privileged travel game. 
Of which we are not even rooks,
only pawns.

Nonetheless we hand over mountains of cash
to faceless airlines
thinking we are royalty.

But our own minds have duped us 
and we shake our fists at the gods of weather,
for they delay us.
We stomp and curse and demand new planes and atonement
when the mechanical issues scuttle our plans.

We cannot believe the truth. 

That we have been canceled.