Humanity at the Airport

What do you think of when you contemplate going somewhere via plane?  Long lines at the airport, going through TSA, expensive food, and flight delays may come to mind.  I encounter a lot of folks who dread going to the airport for those and other reasons, one of which being that they might have to interact with people.  

I relish in those opportunities with others.  In fact, I think that you can see and learn a lot about human emotion, our strengths and weaknesses at the airport.  I enjoy watching people jockey to get in a better position to board the plane first, only to find out that everyone has to wait anyways.  I get a kick out of how people still try to bring bottled water that they just bought through the TSA checkpoint and then they try to down a liter all at once.  I sit and wonder what people who are wearing headphones are listening to, and sometimes I overhear conversations that I wish I wasn't hearing.  I begin to miss my children when I see little kids getting excited for their first flight or talking about the vacation they were just on.  Sports teams heading to a competition, children heading to grandmas' house, veterans going to their deployments, pilots and crew hopping from plane to plane, business travelers getting annoyed with the casual vacationers.... it is all really interesting to me. 

For all of the excitement and interesting interactions, there often are many that are far more morose. 

This past week I experienced two of the deeper of the emotions that you might find at the airport.

As I was waiting to board my flight, I noticed that there was a woman hugging a man who was about to board the plane.  As they broke their embrace, I noticed that the woman was upset and wiping tears from her face.  She looked at the man longingly as he scanned his ticket, waved at her and then headed down the jet bridge.  She walked over to the window and her eyes followed where she was imagining he was on his walk down the jet bridge and she strained to see him thought the front windows of the plane.  There was no way that she would see him, but she kept staring and even took a picture, crying the whole time.  She didn't look much older than me, and I was trying to figure out who the man was to this woman.  I said a quick prayer for her, that she would find peace in his departure.  As she turned to walk away, our eyes met and I asked her who he was.  She replied that he was her son.  I asked her how long until she would see him again.  She said 14 months and that he was stationed in Germany.  I told her that this mama just prayed for her and for her son's safety and she thanked me.  I mentioned that I couldn't imagine one of my boys leaving for that long.  I walked to the gate to board the plane and glanced back to see the woman smiling towards me.  I wish I would have given her a hug.  So many people say good-bye at the airport... I often think about how for some it is their last to each other.  It also reminds me of the time that I saw a family meet the coffin that held their daughter who had died in the line of duty.  

I got onto the plane and took my seat, a rare window seat, as I usually pick the aisle in order to get off the plane quickly.  A woman of about 50 years sat down next to me.  As I typically do, I asked her what brought her to Indianapolis.  She said that she was heading home after being in Northern Indiana to bury her mother after a long battle with Alzheimer's.  I continued to chat with her about my job and her teenage kids, found out she was a lawyer, and that she lived in New Hampshire.  She was surprised that I was familiar with the area where her father had grown up in Northern Indiana, and mentioned that her grandmother had lived for a very long time in Peru.  I said that my great aunt lived in Peru.  She asked if the great aunt lived on River Road, and I replied that she had.  I told her that her name was Clarabelle.  The woman, who by now had identified herself as Mary Stewart, said that she knew "Belle" and that my great aunt had taken care of her grandmother.  Apparently Clarabelle and her children were quite close with the Stewart family and you could see how pleased that Mary was in discovering that I was related to the woman.  Her mood immediately shifted from depressed to joyful as she talked about summers spent with her grandmother and how she would go spend the night at Belle's house with her kids. We flew in silence, both us us in a better mood for having had the conversation.  As we got ready to deplane, I told Mary that I believe that there was a reason that God put us together on that flight and that these strong women who raised her are still alive in how she lives and carries on their memory.  She agreed with me and wished me well.  I messaged my dad's cousin to find out if she remembered a Mrs. Stewart on her road in Peru.  She did, and she said she had been thinking about "grandma Stewart" and her mother (Clarabelle, who died a couple years ago) this week and that my message really made her day.  

What is crazy is that this was probably the fifth time that I have flown with a seat mate who had just buried a parent in Indiana.  I don't know if they would be open to sharing this information with just anyone, but I've learned a lot from those conversations that I have with folks who are flying home after just buying their loved ones.  

So, the next time you are in the airport, maybe pay attention a little more... think about how God might want to use you to make the whole experience better.