On Airports--Waiting to Head Home

Waiting game at LAX.

All human life can be found at the airport. --David Walliams

There’s something charming about airports.  Not charming in the way that our hostels were charming or an outdoor movie in DC is charming.  But there is something about airports.  In some ways they’re the great equalizer—it doesn’t matter if you’re a well-known celebrity, if you’re flying first class or got the lowest rate of economy possible—if your flight is delayed, it’s delayed.  You have to take off your shoes at security.  You have to go to the gate they want you to go to and have to board when you’re supposed to board.

Airports bring out strong emotions in us all—stress that we won’t make our flight, fear of the plane crashing, boredom that we’re stuck waiting, excitement in our destination.  I’ve been at airports ridiculously early in the past several months and it’s interesting to see them wake up around me.  I got to Reagan just before 4 am four weeks ago and was checked in by 4:15.  I made my way down towards security there and stood in line.  The woman in front of me sighed and told the anxious older man beside both of us that security at this airport doesn’t open until 4:30am.  He could not settle though.  He walked up and down the line, asked every official looking person he saw what was happening and decided there must be another security checkpoint somewhere that he was missing. 

            “This is Mickey Mouse security,” he said at least a half dozen times in his impatience.  He paced up and down the line and I wished he could understand that the movements by official TSA people were moving towards opening.

            I also wished I could tell him this was the security option.  Reagan is not a large airport—it’s not an international airport, it’s the smaller DC option.  Dulles is a much larger, though farther from my house, and lately, more expensive, option.  But my anxious friend would not admit defeat and changed from worrying about the Mickey Mouse security to saying, “Something is wrong.  This feels wrong,” as he resumed his pacing up the line that didn’t move.  “I’m telling you, this feels wrong,” he claimed to no one in particular on his return.

            There was nothing wrong—TSA was about two minutes behind schedule and looking ready to open any second.  But, I was worried about him—I had a feeling they would flag him at security if he couldn’t just stand in line.

            By contrast, LAX is the largest airport I’ve ever been to.  Almost everything about it is open 24 hours a day and when I dropped Mom off at the US Airways gate around 5:30am, we got stuck in some traffic.  The great thing about checking in via phone the night before was that it saved me quite a bit of time standing in line this morning.  Each airline also has its own security area, so I barely waited in line for that stage at all.  That was vastly preferable to any other airport check in process I’ve ever had. 

            The food options in LAX left something to be desired though. I wanted Starbucks, partly because I wanted the LA mug that I now had room for in my backpack. (My suitcase only weighed 45.5 pounds! Whoo hoo!) But in the entire LAX complex, there’s only one Starbucks not under construction.  And that one is in Terminal 1-probably a mile walk from my location in Terminal 7.

            So Peet’s Coffee, without a mug, it was, but I poked around, looking for some pizza that I could get for lunch since I’d been craving it the last few days.  Nothing.  It looked like a sandwich was the only thing I could perhaps grab.  The Charlotte airport where Mom and Dad and I got stuck recently was much better.  Vastly better.

            But those were options were the same for me and for Jennifer Aniston—if she happened to come through LAX on United Airlines.  We’re all in this airport because we’re trying to get somewhere—often times somewhere we’re excited about going.  When I got to LA in July I was waiting for an unknown shuttle driver and I saw two couples embrace in a way that defied gravity and oxygen needs.  I knew I wouldn’t have this kind of greeting waiting for me.  I did give my Mom a huge hug when she got here last week and I picked her up at the airport.  When Meg picks me up today I suspect there will be a lot of joy and excitement—though the kind that doesn’t involve saliva or tongues. 

            We’re all at the airport because we’re trying to get somewhere.  Or because we’ve gotten where we need to go.  Usually there’s a lot of good feeling connected with it, though sometimes it’s for a less pleasant reason.  But everywhere you look in airports, there’s emotion.  Today’s for me is eagerness—it’s time to be home.