I consider myself to be a relatively easygoing person. I certainly become tense on occasion, like when I have a research paper due or when I make the mistake of watching Fox News. However, one thing that I learned over break is that many people allow opportunities for relaxation to transform into hideous episodes of anxiety. A case in point: airports.
Airports are paradoxical worlds in which infinitely diverse people are simultaneously separated and united by seemingly arbitrary situations. I started my break with a four-hour delay at the Providence airport, amidst the company of some very angry New Englanders who felt the need to cuss out the floor in order to convey their frustration. Following the Brown University student cliché, I had thrown on my iPod, called some friends back home to organize a hookah gathering and fantasized about all the non-Ratty food I would be able to eat during my vacation.
I was not, however, a lonely island of tranquility in a sea of anger and frustration. While most of the inconvenienced travelers exhaled waves of profanity with every breath, there was also a grandmotherly looking woman who looked like she wanted to bake an apple pie for everyone present and an elderly sage-like man who, through an extremely calm and wise expression, encouraged onlookers to assume that through intense clairvoyance he had already planned on arriving four hours late to his destination.
Looking at my fellow passengers reminded me of all the different associations I have with airports. Thoughts of famous cinematic airport scenes began to consume me. After all, airports are always the place where people find the loves of their lives, like Nicholas Cage in "The Family Man," or experience an incredible personal growth and new outlook on the world, like Tom Hanks in "The Terminal," or simply run around with an intense look, metaphorical of overcoming life's obstacles, like Tom Cruise in "Jerry Maguire."
As the hours passed, I was increasingly amused by looking at the people and how they responded to the situation at hand, at the disgusting half-eaten chicken pesto sandwich that occupied the seat next to me and at the flickering lights of everyone's cell phones. Despite the varied reactions, the diversity of our backgrounds and appearances, I couldn't help but realize that in that moment, we were all in the same situation. And when we attained our immediate common goal, the vast array of our reactions shifted to one of common relief. And the most gruesome yet enlightening realization I had was that if the plane crashed, we would all die together in roughly the same moment, despite our incredibly different attitudes and behaviors. It might sound cliché and morbid, but I wondered how many of my fellow passengers would have regretted the way they spent the last few hours of their lives, cussing at the floor. An airport might not be the ideal place to spend your last moments amongst the living, but if that is the circumstance, would it not be better to philosophize about lights on cell phones rather than stress over something that is out of your control?
In taking the circumstances into consideration, I couldn't help but wonder if all the horrible atrocities that occur in our world, occur in part as a result of our intense stress and worries over matters of a trite nature. The aggregate stress that accumulated at our gate while waiting on the plane did not improve anyone's situation - it did not shorten our delay or make the wait any more pleasant. I wondered if any of the obviously stressed people on my flight would eventually come to an altercation with another obviously stressed person, and unexpectedly find themselves in a conflict that ends in murder - such scenarios have certainly happened many times before.
In the midst of the varied reactions to the delay, I began to think about my previous experiences at airports. I always loved visiting them as a child. I remember being fascinated by the airplanes (of course) but also with the concept of the airport itself. While flying in a plane was a new adventure, the airport, given its transient environment, seemed to me an epitome of the present. Airports foster a feeling of unity with the fleeting moment. After all, the only reason to go to an airport is to leave it.
A moment is a powerful concept; a single moment can only be truly associated with great victory or failure. What is amazing about airports is that such a fleeting moment is created, among other things, in a hum of artificial lights, strangers sitting awkwardly close and humungous vacuum cleaners. Waiting at an airport reminds us how precious our time on Earth is and how, even while being bombarded by seeming monotony, we are consistently in a position to rise to victory or submit to failure. We are always free to choose whether we want to cuss the floor or find amusement in half-eaten chicken pesto sandwiches.
