By Monday morning, I'll be in Denmark. Monday evening, we'll touch down at Vagar Airport in the Faroe Islands.
But hey, the airport is part of the vacation, right?
It starts with the obligatory interaction with the TSA. Because it is impossible for TSA agents to be civil, I naturally got yelled at for the horrible infraction of: taking my wallet out of the plastic bin and putting it back in my pocket, instead of taking the entire bin to the chairs in the back of the room; thereby holding up the zero people who were behind me. Perhaps I expect too much from the police academy dropouts our government employs to protect our airports, but is it really too much to ask that public servants be civil to people they serve?
But once past the TSA, I love the airport.
It starts with the post-security "re-humanization zone", as I like to call it. It is amazing to see a person who comes away from the stripping, screening, and verbal abuse (see rant, above) with downtrodden looks, to slowly rebuild a more positive affect as they put on their shoes, belt and wallet (unless they are rebels like me, and have already pocketed their wallet). The ones who sit in the chairs to tie their shoes are the best. They have a moment of joy and satisfaction as they tie their shoes -- thinking "This is something I'm good at! I'm accomplishing something! Yes!" -- which slips away immediately as they stand up and realize that they have no idea where they are supposed to go next. Human drama!
The airport bar is great because it houses several archetypes. The married businessman, released from home life, who tries to chat up every lady. The frazzled parents, kids in tow, who came to the bar hoping for a drink but realized that the prices are high. The longtime travelling companions who are enjoying their meal and relaxing between legs of a long journey, and falling into an easy routine. The recent college grad, heading off to travel in Europe, who thinks he may have a chance of getting with the bartender, and will tip accordingly. The tired and weary traveler who looks like he just got off of a flight from Hong Kong, and is getting a drink before his connecting flight to Johannesburg. The solo traveler who is blogging his experiences. We're all here.
Sitting at the gate gives a different view of humanity. Clearly, the term "sit and relax" means different things to different people. Some are completely incapable of it; they sit, and then stand up, look around, check their cell phone, sit down, and repeat. Solo people are usually reading, playing with their cell phone or (if they are my kind of people) sitting still and looking thoughtful. A few sleep. Couples are the best to watch. Some of them chat and tell jokes; some just ignore each other very deliberately. I have observed that most couples will sit down and immediately one will put their arm behind the other. But if this doesn't happen immediately, it will happen after about 10 minutes. I'm not sure what, if anything, that means.
I think what I like best, though, is the employees. While there are a few grouches, and the obligatory petty tyrants (see rant, above), what you mostly see is people who actually enjoy what they do. I guess it's not as surprising when gate agents, who presumably got into the business because they like people, seem to enjoy being helpful. But it's a nice sight when you see a janitor stop his work to help an older passenger carry her bag, or to see the restaurant and store workers reach out to the lost and confused and send them (presumably) in the right direction.
So while I will spend a little time reading, and a little time studying Icelandic road signs, and a little time writing, I'm going to spend most of my time people-watching. In fact, I'm going to close this post now, and get on with the observations.
But first...let me take a #selfie.
