Airports
I am waiting in another airport in the U.S. It really doesn’t matter where. There is a distinct commonness to them all. You check in at the counter outside the security area to a hopefully smiling agent, then find the security line with your boarding pass in hand. You are being examined for any suspicious behavior as you pass security. Once you take off your jacket, belt, and shoes and then get the nod to proceed past the security zone, you feel a small sense of relief. Then you check for the boarding pass, phone and wallet. I have done this process hundreds of times in the last 10 years. It is almost autopilot now.
The wait is still the same. It doesn’t matter where I am. A minute is a minute, and an hour is an hour. I have spent 18 hours waiting for a flight. I have run to just beat the closing door to the aircraft. I have been on flights that take off and then return to the airport; other flights have been delayed three days after waiting for hours each day. I have seen the oddest sites and sat in seats that make sardines feel spacious in their cans. I have walked out on the tarmac to board my flight or gone by bus to the flight. I have been on flights with caged chickens in the aisles and flights where the co-pilot comes to the aisle to pray during the flight. On one flight, it was clearly posted “No Smoking”, but the pilots were smoking so heavily that their smoke filled the plane. I have landed on old WWII airstrips and have even landed next to a burning plane on the other runway. I have come to believe a safe landing is a good landing as long as you stop before the end of the runway and the plane remains upright. If the luggage arrives, that is that much better.
I have witnessed out of control children with exasperated parents in tow. I have seen celebrities and nobodies all together heading to the points of interest. Some travel for pleasure, others out of need. I even saw a guy today in a white robe that looked like Jesus. It is hard to fathom that people will dress the way they do and expect to board a flight. After awhile sitting in the same seat at a coffee shop, it was clear to see the route of the janitors who go from one end of the airport to the other. You can hear the raised voices of disagreement between a husband and a wife and the tart responses of the final verbal missile shot back in disgust.
I sit now in an airport listening to a gifted guitar player serenade the corridors of the airport. He has his wares on the table and is coaxing in those who have an interest in his sound. The hundreds of passing people just walk by with an occasional soul stopping. Those walking by remind me of people I know, and I keep looking and wondering if I will find that one person who just by chance is someone I actually do know. It is as rare as finding a gold nugget on the sidewalk in L.A., but it doesn’t stop me from wondering and hoping. Meanwhile, the guitarist continues to play his minor cord message to all travelers: give me love, love, crazy love.
Have you ever wondered what life would be like without cell phones? Would people make better eye contact or would they care more? It is an accessory to most of those in the corridors. They can contact anyone, check their fantasy football league, check the latest news or the newest update to a friend’s Facebook page. It seems like a parallel universe. You can speak to them, and there is no response. They are talking but to no one in the here and now realm. If you get a response, it is like you have snapped them out of the trance until they just plunge back as fast as they came out. Imagine ten years from now. I am glad I am in the twilight of my time here. I have already fallen so far behind the tech pack. I do not have an iPhone, and I am not on Facebook. I drive an old car that should be in the rust heap by now, but it has been on life support more than a dozen times. My car is a nuts and bolts version of me. I am still running, but I know my limits. I cannot keep up with the newest and fastest, but I can keep moving forward. I am outdated and tired. I do not feel that old until I try to climb that hill or try to get started in the cold. I need more frequent attention than I used to. A minor issue can quickly lead to a worse issue if not addressed. On the bright side, I do not cost much to maintain. I am set in my ways and do not expect help but appreciate it when I get it.
Yes, I am waiting and must make my way to my gate. I will be a little early, which is my habit. I am on my way home.