When Chris took me to the airport yesterday, we had the fun of going to the new Springfield-Branson Regional airport. I hadn’t seen it yet. It really is a lovely design; well laid out in a basic square maze pattern. Keep turning right and you’ll end up where you started. That’s why we had to laugh when the announcement came over the intercom that if anybody was confused about where to go in the brand new terminal, please just ask for help. If you couldn’t find your way around that terminal, you shouldn’t be flying. Because wherever you fly from there, you’re going to be going to a bigger terminal. And that would frighten to death anybody if they couldn’t handle Springfield’s cute little airport!
I had an interesting time. After Chris and I said goodbye, I went through security and settled down at my gate waiting to board. About five minutes before we boarded, a cop came by with an airport security guard. They were looking for Mr. Hxxxx, and thoroughly checked the id of every guy in that area. Little creepy. They never found him; I’m just hoping that Mr. Hxxxx didn’t somehow make it on the plane, as they didn’t seem like they were planning on having a nice little chat with him.
I had the unusual delight of getting the front row seat in the little airplane. Extra leg room! Yay! And not only a front seat, but an entire row to myself! Miraculous!
Apparently my tendency to look far younger than I am had the stewardess all sympathetic with me, so she took very good care of me the entire flight. I didn’t bother to tell her that I had, as she was quite young, probably flown more times in my life than she has!
As I sat sipping some water (thank goodness that’s still free), and looking out the window at the beautiful sunset pouring out over the clouds below me, I was amused to hear the confidences of the complete strangers surrounding me. What is it about airplanes that cause some people to just spill their life stories to complete strangers? In one particular case, it was very intimate details being shared!
Is it the belief that they’re never going to see these people again? Silly rabbits. They don’t seem to realize the small, small world of airports.
Is it simply nerves? Or is that they’ve simply failed to pack something to do, not realizing how boring a small cross-country flight can be without any in-flight movies or meals to occupy ones mind? Or are they just very lonely people with a captive audience? A cynical thought, I know, but still…..one has to wonder.
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