There was a rocking chair in the empty terminal. There's a story there. Someone brought the chair specially for someone. Someone who needed special calming before flying. Would they have rushed around, fanning themselves with their hand, comedically, rolling their eyes, wringing their hands as the moment for departure neared? "Here," the helpful young woman in the blue vest would say, "try sitting in this. It will help you relax." Hard to imagine someone in such straits actually stopping, thinking about it with that cocked-head thing and saying, "You know, that just might work!"
But the chair was there, and something must have taken place. There might be another story, too. Someone (like me) wanders around the empty terminal, looking at the chair. Looking around to see if there is anyone to ask: "Hey, d'you know why that rocking chair is there?" Looking, but it's really empty, and it doesn't look like anyone knows why a chair would be there, let alone one of the rocking variety. I wanted to sit in it, but I was afraid of drawing attention to myself. Someone would ask, "Why is there a rocking chair in the waiting area?" and I would be forced to admit I didn't know. Nobody likes to be forced into saying they don't know. Then I would have offered my version of an explanation, which would have sounded better in my head, and then I'd be embarrassed. So, that's why I didn't sit in it.
But, I did take a picture of it. I was almost as cautious about taking the picture as I was not to sit in it. By drawing attention to the chair, I was inviting passers-by to question me, and I would still have to make something up, because I would still be just as loathe to admit I didn't know. I could, however, suddenly appear to be pointing my camera elsewhere, in a pinch. If someone asked, "Why is that chair there?" I could simply pretend to have just noticed. "Oh," I would say, "A rocking chair. How odd."
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