|I was very excited that I got to make a trip to the airport the other day. I don’t live near one of those smaller type airports that lets you park right beside the front door. You wave at the security guard standing outside because their child rides to soccer practice every Wednesday with your youngest child; you know each other. You walk into the terminal and it takes you fifteen minutes to reach the ticket counter because you’ve run into about half of the people that you graduated with. The security guard outside the metal detectors gives you a high five and asks how your folks are doing. I think you get the picture.
My airport is nothing like that. My airport is bigger than your town. There are six concourses and they are 300M apart according to the posted signs. If you are feeling energetic you might want to walk to your destination.
I had to go to the farthest concourse which according to the posted signs was over a mile away. If you add in the half mile walk from the economy parking garage and the walk through the terminal it all adds up to quite a distance.
I was taking the train.
Or, maybe not.
I was getting ready to board the train that had just dropped off a bunch of passengers when an announcement came over the loudspeaker that the train was having technical difficulties; it was going to take at least thirty minutes to fix the problem. Suddenly, there was a loud groan and several muffled curse words as the entire hoard of passengers made a left face and started walking towards the next concourse. It was like the parting of the Red Sea; individuals who were walking towards the baggage claim area were quickly swallowed up by this mass of humanity snaking its way through the underbelly of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.
I had somewhere to be, so, after a slight hesitation I started walking too. I fell into step along side an elderly woman who I thought I might be able to keep pace with. She looked over at me and asked where I was headed. I told her I was going to Concourse E and she said me too.
Every thing was going smoothly until I saw her glance down at her watch. I heard her mumbling to herself and then she looked over at me and this is what she said. “According to the sign it’s going to be over a mile by the time we get there. I walk a 12 minute mile every morning; this should be a piece of cake. Let’s go!!
Uhh, I think I need to use the ladies room, don’t wait on me; I’ll catch up to you.
Friday, October 24, 2008
A Trip To The Airport
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