Well, six hours at the airport. No technology.
Sounds like my nightmare come true. I need to be amused and interested in things at all times, or I get grouchy and gripe about stuff. I have allergies to sitting still.
For my first hour, I diligently check over everything in my carry-on. This can literally take an hour because at some point I will inevitably create an inventory of everything on my person. Every lip balm, every book… You name it and if it goes in the carry-on it’ll go on a list. The next half-hour after this will be spent buying anything I need; one time I went for a weekend away and forgot, of all things, my hairbrush. I’m a vain creature; I braided my hair and ran out for a new brush.
After that I’ll go for a meal. Lunch or dinner accordingly. Criteria for this includes a place that is not a chain restaurant and provides entrees, mains etc. That can take a while. Let’s say an hour and a half – so I’ve already killed three hours.
Three hours down, so I’ll read a novel that I have in my bag. I’ll stop reading after three or four chapters, paranoid about reading time going melty. By this I mean the reaction I have when I promise to read just one chapter before I sleep, and before I know it I’m eight chapters in and it’s three hours later. Oops. Assuming my reading ratio is eight chapters in three hours, let’s guess that I’ve killed another hour and a half. Four hours down.
I stretch my legs by walking around for twenty minutes depending on the size of the airport. Make it thirty, that’s an even four and a half hours down. Time for a coffee and pastry, so allocate half an hour to buying and eating.
Five hours down, so I make my way to the area to start boarding. With an hour left to amuse myself, I will sit right by the boarding area and read, do my makeup, and depending on my mood chat to another passenger. I like to have a lot of time to spare. It’s the same formula I follow with exams: get there very early and wait.
And then I get on the plane and continue reading.