Airport

An airport is like a circle. Its something that is complete within itself. Within the perimeter of an airport there is a rainbow of emotions. Every emotion known to man can be found somewhere in an airport. Sometimes they are hidden and need to be searched for, others are so visible that its impossible to miss them. A circle is something that has no beginning and no end and so...... a journey into an airport begins.

On one hand, there is the departure lounge. Full of adventure, dreams and explorers. The businessman sitting drinking coffee while checking his last minute emails before his transatlantic flight to New York for a meeting to buy a bankrupt company that makes leather shoes. Standing a few feet away is a young woman with her cell phone in her hand and a can of coke in the other, sending her last "i love you" text to her boyfriend who is making his way back to his car. As he puts on his sunglasses he feels a humbleness towards her as her flight back to her parents could be the most important one, for reconciliation is the reason of her journey.
A backpacker sits on his bag holding his lunch, a burger wrapped in silver paper dripping tomato on his ripped faded blue jeans. The same jeans he wore as he scaled down the rock face attached to a red and blue twisted piece of rope secured by his instructor to a nearby tree. A long stare comes upon his face as he remembers the moment where he could only dream of such adventures. A tiny smile appears, two more mouthfuls and the burger disappears into the explorers stomach.
Quietly peering over the top of his newspaper is an elderly gentleman whose face portrays a distant memory of his adventures and how he met his second wife on safari in the depths of Africa. A dark night had brought them together as they sat back to back each holding a gun ready for the prowling lions surrounding their gathering of tents.
Soothed by the constant sound of the downfall of water, surrounded by the relaxing colour of the lush green plants is a young girl who has a tear rolling down her cheek. A tear that has been brought on by a new beginning in her life, as she starts the first steps of a new journey to live with her great aunt in an old victorian town house overlooking the river thames in a distant far off place called London. Although excited about the adventure she is anxious so she holds tightly onto a fluffy worn out one eyed teddy bear whose left arm has come undone at the seams, a gift from her grandmother to her mother which was passed onto the young traveller before the fatal car accident that orphaned her. The heels on her black shoes are wearing thin as she taps a foot on the ground, maybe to control the tears, maybe to release a moment of anger.
A woman's voice booms through the sky like a cloud of authority "would passenger Thompson bound for Copenhagen please make your way to gate 16 immediately". Suddenly a loud scream as Miss Thompson turns and crashes into a nearby plant, flustered and excited she gathers her belongings and quickly returns them back to her brown leather shoulder bag with a flower attached to the side of it. As she stands up the heal on her shoe snaps and if it hadnt had been for that handsome pilot standing nearby she would have fallen again.
"Are you ok Madam?" "i think so", replies the laughing Miss Thompson,
" i am so excited i cant even think straight. What do i wear? What colour shoes? How do i smile? What will his parents be like? Will they like me? What if they dont like me? ooohhhhhhh its too much for me to think about" "slow down Madam, you are confusing me, what is happening? " as a smile came from the pilots face, "i'm getting married Sir, i have been talking with Roger for 6 months now online and today is the day i meet him and we are getting married, does my hair look ok? first impressions are important you know." With a comforting smile, he takes her hand and looks deep into her eyes...."Madam, Roger is a lucky man."

On the other hand, there is the arrivals hall. A brightly coloured area that wears a golden cloak filled with hope, anticipation and a collection of suspended coloured ballons that have floated up to the ceiling after many explosions of joy and togetherness. The strings from this blanket of colour hang down and gently dance with the breeze from the air conditioned atmosphere,. The colours are eyecatching, a collection of pinks, blues, reds, and silver all finished off with splashes of oranges and greens. The majestic colomuns supporting the multicoloured ceiling have a historic feel to them and a splender of the ancient King Soloman from biblical times.
Gathered around the glass barriers are a number of expantant people, watching the clock, waiting for the sign to say their long awaited loved ones have landed. The months have gone by slowly for these greeters, and they wait patiently to be reunited again.
A group of young men, all wearing identical black jackets which cover their crispy white shirts, and matching black hats, laugh and joke around as they plan their circular positions for the dance that will surround their Jewish traveller on return into their close group of trusted friends.
A young man holds a bunch of flowers with nervous hands, checking that his breath smells good and that his hair is in order, he straightens the knot in his tie and plays with the button on his jacket quietly talking to himself "jacket done up or jacket undone, i knew i should have left it in the car." He checks his watch and then checks it again. Will she be pleased to see him?
Standing by the main doors are 3 gentleman holding signs. Each with something different written on the card, but each of them looking fed up as they wait. Maybe their associates have been delayed again, and the thought of another job overwhelms them. "day after day i come here and wait, and day after day it's never me flying anywhere."
Over by the coffee bar there is an annoying sound of a snoring sleeper, an elderly lady with a blue hat sits with her head down asleep on the chair, waiting for her grandson to come and visit her on his annual summer vacation. The preparation of cleaning her home, ironing the linen and cooking up some home made food has all been a bit too much for this once enegetic olympic swimmer this week.
The smell of coffee drifts through the majestic hall as it's freshly made by 3 young women in matching orange shirts.The queue for refreshments is small but its a long shift for these coffee makers on their feet all day
Suddenly, an explosion of cheers go up to accompany the ballons as the passengers start to come through the frosted glass door. A young woman throws down her bag and runs into the arms of a young man. Flowers are scattered everywhere and the petals land on their shoulders as they hold each other so closely. The golden light from the surroundings disappears between them as the worries and doubts erase from both of their minds as they embrace each other with what can only be described as pure love.
The shout of joy wakes up the elderly lady and immediately she cries out "Harold!" Realising she was dreaming, she picks up her false teeth which have accidentally slipped out and fallen onto an open book that rests on her lap, she looks at the arrival board. Is this the plane that her grandson was on? No, so more snoring will be heard in the echoing hall i'm sure.
A smart looking woman walks out through the glass doors into the golden hall. Carrying her laptop and a suitcase she has no-one to greet her. But this is the start of a new life for her as a teacher for troubled children. In the awakening of realising the local temperature, she removes her tweed jacket to reveal a simple but elegant white blouse. She makes her way to the exit, looking for the signs for the trains as she walks forward. Her journey is still not over but in 2 or 3 hours she will be in her new home, starting her new job in a new country. Hopefully this time she can find a man who really respects her. Just before the exit, she puts down her bag, checks her train ticket and takes a deep sigh.....and says in a voice that speaks into the future...."let the journey begin."


© Travelling Boy content belongs to Philip D Norris