About The Airport
Post 14:
The airport. Ideally, here’s how it goes: you float through security, the TSA is cordial and polite, accommodating to a fault. “Take your time, Sir. No really, Sir, anything your heart desires.” You get through the line, maybe there’s fifteen other people in the entire international terminal. It’s a slow day. The frenetic passers-by rushing with children slung over their shoulders and essentials flailing behind to take out the occasional kneecap or ankle are not involved in this fantasy.
So it doesn’t go that way. The TSA lady basically outperforms the Cowboy’s quarterback by throwing your IPhone a goodly distance, there’s the cattle car crushing and frustration, the feeling of helplessness.
Finally the first flight. Pretty decent. A couple of hours to relax, put on the sound-cancelers and take in a good podcast or album. But no. The person shoehorned next to you is talking in the direction of your face. You know this because you see their mouth moving. Can’t hear a thing, but apparently they aren’t aware of that. The giant saucers sticking from either side of your head aren’t enough of a sign. Here you have a decision to make. Nod, close your eyes, or take them off and… engage.
So no big deal. That was only a two hour conversation about things you never planned on talking about for the duration of your life.
Finally you get to the gate for the last flight of day. You look around. All the players have showed up. The cute old couple that need a little assistance. A few young couples still in love. A few collegians with too many electronics hanging off their bodies. And everybody else. An airplane is a not bad sample of the population.
You get on. A noise goes off. It takes a few minutes to realize that the nuts and bolts you’re sitting on isn’t getting airborne.
They say get off. But… everybody has someplace to go. There’s their kid’s thing early the next day, the start of their big vacation, God forbid, work.
This is where things get impressive. People talk with each other, the weird college kids, the old folks, the black, the white, the whatever—everybody’s made the same by the inadequacy of the airline. There are cynics out there that want to say that this situation is primed for an adult version of Lord of the Flies. It couldn’t be less true. On the whole everybody pulls together. It’s a long haul across one of the biggest buildings in western civilization, but no one is left behind. Camaraderie.
Not bad.
Other than that though, the whole thing totally sucked. I should’ve been rich. Private air travel is the only way to go. What was I thinking?
Cheers maniacs. See you after.
