Airport Thoughts
Our airports tell us a lot about our society, our beliefs, even our own selves.
The world is opening up and people are filling the airports.
I’m one of them, currently in Toronto, “waiting for a flight south. Going to get myself to the Grand Canyon. Promised myself I’d do this once in my life - and not going to procrastinate on this final farewell tour I’m on.
I’m sitting in Terminal 3, a terminal I helped build, back in my days, post university, as a steelworker. It’s special when I’m in one of a large number of steel buildings I rigged and raised. Something so satisfying to commune with a thing you helped bring to life.
I’m probably in the 1%, when it comes to air travel. I’ve seen airports and air transportation grow and develop (I use that word cautiously), as I scooted about the world, my playground.
It’s a real privilege - so many just take for granted. Checking in, beside me was a Sri Lankan young woman, all nervous, many bags. She asked me questions in a cautionary, innocent voice. “Is this the line for X?” “How do I find Y?”. Refreshing, seeing these first time fliers. But in reality, the vast majority of our earthly family have never been up in a plane. Airports remain a far off thing, shown on a screen.
Airports are so sterile, almost all the same. Like a casino. You are removed from the world and put into this controlled environment. You could be in Mumbai, Moscow, Marrakesh and if in an airport, you’d be hard pressed to know where you are exactly, if just teleported there. Airports are like casinos too - designed to suck the money from your pocket or card, like a Dyson the dirt on the carpet.
Same drill, lines, decor, colors, set ups in every airport in the world. It’s as if there is one global company designing all these airports and gates and food courts. It points to how, despite so much telling us otherwise, the world is becoming less strange, more homogenous. I’m not certain that is a good thing. But it certainly is a current which we can’t hold back.
I mention the late Gyorgy Faludy often, best writer never to win a Nobel Prize. He once said to me, when we were discussing the decline of the intellectual in the world, that an intellectual is “a person who with 4 hours to kill at an airport, no phone, no reading material - isn’t bored.” The intellectual takes fascination and is lost in thought through their mere interaction with their environment. Thoreau by his pond and in his own forest of symbols.
I concur. I’ve never been bored on a park bench, in a shopping mall, at the airport. So much to observe, imagine, wonder, think about … Sitting here, I have 3 hours to kill and I’m Ted Bundy, no problem for me, killing them. I just got to look around.
Airports I love because despite their horrid sterility, the security and control - they do allow you to meet so many, from so many different places, countries, cultures. The melting pot watched, observed. Just sitting here - I can here Russian, Tamil, Hindi, Spanish. I’m not exaggerating.
And that is my wish for this world - we all treat each other in this world, like we treat each other at the airport - with respect for our cultures, race, language, diversity. Reminds me of Bukowski’s old quote
Next time at an airport, take some time to let you mind wander. Get off the phone, the internet, be an intellectual for a moment and marvel at the tapestry of human life, celebrate your weave and stitch in time, in that magical flying carpet!
Bon voyage - more reports from the Grand Canyon soon.
Mr. Dubel..total and complete agreement on your thoughts, Bukowski's quote, and fondness for airports and travel. Just did a bucket list tour myself this summer.
Hehe..a little surprised by Bundy metaphor though...he was a particularly nasty dude.
Was a doc recently about 70's serial killers...of which he was one. Our high schools years.
Who wooda thought the 70s classic rock Era, the best ever, would be matched by serial killers.
Anyway, I digress on this subject. All the best in Arizona.