When a song gets stuck in your head, it usually has words to it. That is, the song is catchy and it probably has a smooth-sounding rhythm, but really what makes the song stick in your mind is its words, its lyrics. I mention all this because as I'm sitting in the airport, I'm reminded of Miles Davis' "Generique," which—unsurprisingly—has no words to it. Just trumpets, soft drums, and a little bit of piano. It can't really be hummed (not by me, anyway), and for the most part, it doesn't have any predictable rhythm (as smooth-as-butter as that rhythm might be, however).
So it comes as a shock to me when, as I'm flipping through a book and checking my phone just so I can use last bit of WiFi I'll have for a while (Berlin has relatively few hotspots)—it comes as a shock to me when the motifs of Davis' piece dance through my mind, as casually as wind through a drafty window. Perhaps, somewhat in line with that metaphor, this recollection of this particular jazz song is meant to remind me that, as I sit in this relatively empty airport (my father suggested we get to the airport three hours before my departure) this moment was just the calm before the storm. Perhaps this relatively quiet song, this all too calming jingle, is a slight reminder that this terminal waiting area was the last sense of soothing quietude I would be experiencing for a while.
The scattered sounds of rain-drop-like pitter-patters of drum brushes on hi-hats rattle through my head unrelentingly, like breaking news gliding anxiously across a news ticker. This scene, made up of distant chatter, departure announcements, and rolling suitcases had—once paired with this ongoing jazz sonata in my head—led me to believe that I was no longer in your average airport terminal, but rather in something more the speed of the Admiral's Club.
And such was the calm before the storm. As I got on board the plane, my phone severing its connection from the WiFi, I put my backpack up into the overhead compartment and sat into my seat. How uncanny that in the time I was connected to the internet, Spotify had managed to download only the "Stormy Nights" soundscape playlist.
George Lubitz
<p>George Lubitz is a senior at Skidmore College with a major in Creative Writing. He has a minor in German and is spending the summer of 2016 in Berlin. He enjoys writing short fiction, some of which has been featured in publications like Gravel Magazine and The Adroit Journal, among others.</p>
