Among frequent fliers there are those who say airports become indistinguishable over time. I understand that thinking; after all, public transportation is public transportation. By that I mean the object is to safely hustle growing numbers of people who have paid to be inconvenienced for the sake of convenience through a series of pinch-points to a multitude of destinations as quickly and economically as possible . . . neither ambience or haut cuisine are priorities . . . and it succeeds amazingly well most of the time.
Sixteen hours ago Becky and I were among those folks streaming through the crisp morning air into the Belfast International Airport. Now we are seated in Terminal A in Newark's Liberty International Airport. Though the facilities differ in scale and complexity, functionally they are not dissimilar; and in both locations the people are fascinating in a curious sort of way . . . take for instance those seated around us.
Most appear as indifferent to the amplified voices of boarding agents competing for their attention as they are to the pigeon walking among the rows of seats and the business man frantically searching for his laptop. The absence of a dress code is noticeable, though men and women in great numbers have taken to wearing "skinny jeans" . . . an unfortunate choice in most cases. I wonder why so many people are not working and so many children are not in school. A toddler scurries unnoticed into a forbidden area; the adult in hot pursuit dares to follow and is reprimanded by a uniformed official before being allowed to enter. Many are so engrossed in their electronic devices that they refuse even to be distracted by the drug-sniffing dog, TSA handler in tow, barking wildly at a backpack toting, flip flop wearing, pony tailed young man. And so it goes.
The trash receptacle before me captures the human reality. Its cover clearly calls for a distinction between bottles/cans and paper; but as I deposit a coffee cup, I discover that beneath the two openings there is only one bag. The subtle analogy is noted: we're more alike than different . . . and at some level I find that a bit disconcerting.
My fellow patients in this temporary asylum are now repositioning themselves - some just escaped to Columbus - others are cueing up for Baltimore. By God's grace, Becky and I will make our getaway to Savannah at some point. The pigeon is walking by again - he may be the only long term inhabitant!
In His Power and for His Glory,