“Thank you, right here is good!”
twhack, thwack
“Thank’s so much, appreciate it”
“You too have a great flight”
The handle of the rollerbag smoothly extends upward as they already have their sights set on the entrance. They’re on their way…somewhere, where exactly, only time will tell. The hubbub of the transitory traffic has grown to a dull roar at this hour. Luckily enough they left the house with ample time to beat the traffic, a ride that typically takes 15 minutes ended up lasting 45.
squeeeeee
Automatic doors slide open and reveal schools of people moving around, herded by the idiot-proof signage plastered everywhere. There’s something about airports that just feels so….something. You see people from all walks of life, the youth soccer team from suburbia PA heading to play against the best of the best in Europe (with parents decked out in their flyest fits or a I <3 MILAN t-shirt from the airport gift shop), the elite business traveler, juggling two phones, AirPods in and yelling something about KPIs as they muscle their way to the front of the TSA PreCheck line, the vacationer, moving slower than anyone else in the world (spoiler: they arrived 5 hours early to start their vacation much to the chagrin of their partner), and finally the mysterious and elusive no-bag, no-luggage, traveler (no one know where they’re going or why they don’t have any bags but somehow they seem to be better than everyone else). They looked around and smiled. Airports sure are…
The word escaped them as they checked the time on their phone: 3:45.
“FUCK”
Their flight takes off at 4:20 and, as the airlines love to remind us, if they were late for their flight, the plan would most definitely still take off. Timelines considerably shortened, their pace became frenetic. The thing about airports, they pondered, is that people feel the agency to be a little ruder than they might be otherwise because “fuck it right? when am I ever gonna see these fuckers again?” but not for them. When you’re on the road as much as they are, the airport becomes your home. The smell of lemon-wedge bars in the Delta Sky Lounge remind you, that even for 35 minutes out of your day, you have a reprieve from the worries of life. Perhaps that’s why…
“HEY! YOU! I need to see your boarding pass! …the fuck is wrong with them”
Snapping out of the their monologue that would make even George Clooney’s character from Up in the Air proud, they fumble around their phone until they find the right flight app to show their QR code. As the agent waves them into the priority security line, they wonder why they have the other airlines’ app still installed…it’s like an ex you can’t get over they muse. Having made it past the wild-west of the departures line, they faced a new challenge: getting through security with their dignity intact. Unfortunately today, the TSA agents had taken it on themselves to shut down the pre-check line, arguing or ignoring the consistent protests of the business traveler who had only budgeted 15 minutes to get from Uber to gate. They actually had PreCheck, but today would be a struggle…
Faintly growing louder, the refrain of the TSA agent reminded them they were in the regular line:
“MOVE FORWARD AND FIND A BIN; EVERYTHING NEEDS TO GO INTO A BIN; CELL PHONES, LAPTOPS, TABLETS, BELTS, SHOES, JACKETS PUT IT ALL IN THE BIN”
They remembered the words their first fly-partner gave them, advice they hadn’t used in ages: don’t look at the length of the security line, look at the type of detector. Counterintuitive it may seem, but that’s the real arbiter of throughput. If everyone has to stand in the 360 degree scanner, we’re never gonna make it.
thommmp thommmmmp
Having picked a line with a generic metal detector, they began (basically) unpacking in front of, what felt like, the world. “Laptop, laptop, iPad, belt, shoes, ring – Jesus Christ I have a lot of fucking stuff” they realized.
As they shuffled forward, in their socks, holding the waist of their pants in their hand, they smiled to themselves. There was something humbling about airport security. Here we are, all of us, people who travel every single day of their life and first-time flyers, and we;re all waiting in our socks for someone who has likely been in their job less than 100 days to tell them they’re “all good”. The hilarity of the absurdity was not lost on them as.they made their way through the detector.
whoooooshclick
They grabbed their bag from the conveyor belt and headed towards their gate. Quick time check…
“Shit SHIT SHIT 4:15 FUCK”
They whip out their phone, gate A94….what? This is a brand new airport, first time they’ve ever been here, they rapidly scan the signs for hope
“A93, A93 A93….oh BET gates A91-A108 this way”
Their brisk walk turns into a light job, their trust roller-bag bouncing behind them. They whiz through the airport like a running back that’s made it through to the secondary
“YO watch it”
“Excuse me!!”
There’s no time for pleasantries, otherwise they might miss their flight! As they’re jogging through the terminal, they do take a second to think about the law of the airport, not even they are above: who cares if I hit ’em on the way to my flight? I’m never gonna see these fuckers again.
“Wait WAIT don’t close the doors!! I’m on the flight!!”
“Well damn, you barely made it…once this door is closed there’s no way we can let anyone else on”
They scan their ticket
BEEEEEEEEP
Making their way down the jet bridge, finding their seat admits the dirty looks from the rest of their fellow passengers, they finally find their seat
click thoooomp click
“Sorry I’m actually inside” “Oh, no problem”
thump
Finally, in their seat, bags stowed and seatbelt fastened, they finally let out a sigh of relief. Once again, they made it.