Being stuck in an airport or on a plane for twelve hours straight isn’t a curse. It’s a test to see just how easily entertained you are. How many obscure things do you notice simply because you have nothing else better to do?
While on the plane everyone notices right away that infants and toddlers are the real terrorists. The only difference between them and the real thing is that sometimes the parents are willing to negotiate with them. What do people do with their strollers? Maybe the stewardess is willing to break the “one carry-on and one personal item bag” per person for these people. But that can’t be the case. That nice fake smile disappears real fast if your seat’s leaned back before takeoff or if you have your tray down before takeoff or God forbid if you’re not wearing your all-protecting seat belt.
At some point I just wonder what incentive a stewardess has for being such a stickler. It’s not like somebody is going to complain because she didn’t remind everybody that there’s no smoking on the plane. Even if someone did I think she has pretty good job security. Her nearest boss is 30,000 feet below. What’s the worst that could happen? And all that exit row business that they give off isn’t saving anybody. Personally, if I have to evacuate a plane I figure I’m going to die anyway so I’d rather put me out of my own misery but how? All guns, sharp objects and over three ounces of liquid (or poison in this case) aren’t allowed.
Back at the airport it’s a horse of a different color. There’s a lot more people and a lot more observations to be made. I don’t believe that everybody just sits around and watches other people like I do so I tried to figure out what the most common activity is. Judging by the amount of newsstands and Starbucks, people buy something to read and some coffee and they tend to read, drink and sometimes listen to music all at the same time. I can multitask too. I can watch them and mind my own business at the same time.
It seems like every five minutes in an airport there is some guy running to catch his plane. It’s never a full sprint. That would be embarrassing. Then everyone would know he’s running late. It’s that little half jog that’s just enough to tell him that he is attempting to be on time. I say ‘guy’ because it is hardly ever a woman. I don’t know if women are superior planners or they just think the flight will wait on them but I do know that some women on a day where they will have to walk what probably amounts to miles are crazy enough to wear heels.