I am preparing to depart out of Sea-Tac airport from my home state of Washington (West Coast). I am on my way to conduct training for paperless data collection for the Save the Children USA country offices (CO) in Yerevan, Armenia east of Turkey and Lilongwe, Malawi in southern Africa. My flights will total over 26,000 miles. My two flights to Armenia, a ten hour segment to Paris, then 4 ½ hours to Yerevan, will go quickly. The 12 hour jet lag will be not so easily accommodated, but I will arrive one day early so that I am not totally incoherent on the first training day.
My return flight from Malawi will be much more exhausting. I need to fly south to Johannesburg prior to a ten hour flight back up to Paris. Then, there will be another 10 hour flight to Seattle. That will be a 50 hour set of travel days. Enough of my whining. It is the hot and humid summer in Malawi, but I will be fortunate to see the thermometer hit above freezing while in Armenia. I love it!
The airport is just 10 minutes south of Seattle. In order to see my wife Heidi just before I left, she dropped me off at the airport shuttle at 5:15 AM, even though my flight does not depart until 2:05 PM. I did not mind, as if I took the appropriate shuttle in order to arrive the suggested three hours prior to departure, I would of only gained a couple of hours.
Also, I love arriving early at the airport in order to avoid the frenetic pace and admittedly entertain myself with the antics of late arrives. With most humor, we are amused, because either it has, or could conceivably happen to ourselves. Yes, I have raced through airports more than once. Plus, it can be rewarding to be in a more relaxed disposition to be available to assist someone near in line that may not be in similar attitude.
To risk banality, airports are interesting places. For instance, most everyone by necessity must go to the grocery store due to the obvious. However, not everyone needs to go to the airport. I first noticed this years ago in almost a cruel observation. I was at our local Department of Licensing office needing to renew my driver’s license. This is bureaucracy at its best. All the while I am thankful that I do not enjoy such a secure job. I try to be very patient both with the clients as well as the people behind the counters. The employees know the processes backwards and forwards. Yet, continually they are confronted with people like me, who have either forgotten the process, or just mentally stutter from having to endure it again.
Remember, this is a potential Pass/Fail scenario and even though the latter rarely happens except for the distal points of one’s’ driving career. The employees are almost always without fail courteous and thoughtful. It reminds me of the continual reoccurrence of questions that I answered a multitude of times during computer application or PC support. “Why doesn’t the screen come up?” “My printer does not print?” “Do you think that it is my mouse?” You must pass on your knowledge with a smile and wisdom – always.
Anyway, while sitting in the licensing department, I would see persons walk in the door who evidently had not left their household environment since the last bureaucratic venture. You could see the look on their pale faces encountering persons of presumed authority so that they could continue their enfranchised right of driving on streets that pale in relation to those in the capital cities of emerging countries. The social skills often had deteriorated, and the individual reaction to stress varied according to the person’s demeanor. Some would become angry, while others shrank back towards the water fountain. It was a display of classic “fight or flight” syndrome. I enjoyed watch for the elderly, in particular, and offer to guide them to the right form or line to stand in. Perhaps I should have remained quiescent since I recall the glare from an elderly woman when I had mistakenly directed her to the line for a Class II long haul license. The bureaucratic experts soon rescued her from my ill-placed intentions.
Airports, on the other hand, are different. Most people are frequent flyers and are accustomed to getting out of the darkened spaces of a domestic refuge. Still, and I still share this, there are many who have that deer-in-the-headlights stare. I am confident that someone at the Yerevan airport in Armenia will be waiting to amuse – and to gently and wisely assist – themselves when I arrive not knowing the process in an unfamiliar setting. It always comes around…
No comments:
Post a Comment