Airport travel, Kindness

Moo.

I interrupted my Seattle trip to fly to a friend’s memorial and to hug his wife and son as many times as permissible. This morning, red-eyed, I am back at the airport, the man behind me in line saying ‘moo’ over and over again under his breath as we sort out our queues. I hoped he wasn’t setting an ominous tone for this leg of the journey. But it turns out the opposite was true.

After security, putting all my removables back on and accounting for my technology (yes, once I walked away without my laptop) I discovered that Starbuck’s had turned off the mobile order feature in Terminal A. Resigned to the line ahead I walked in and read my phone. To say the line was moving slowly would be to give it credit for moving at all. I struck up a conversation with a man in a badge ahead of me, turned out he had been in charge of Logan Airport Delta plane maintenance for thirty years, which led to the woman in front and myself letting him know we only flew Delta, so I thanked him, which led to a lot of talk about the new planes. We all had time. He was charming.

Behind me, I heard a Delta flight attendant ask if she could move ahead in line and I leaned over and waved her in front of me, which led the people ahead to wave her all the way to the registers. Not a single ‘moo’ to be heard. A team of giraffe-like volleyball women sparkled and laughed in spectacular nails behind me. Are we all just getting used to the travel curveballs?

When we finally reached the head of the line my Delta friend stepped forward and bought us all breakfast. He thanked us for our loyalty to Delta. We shook hands.

It was a good line kind of day.

To date: five, going on six memorials in 2023. This moment was a stamp of humanity I needed. Yesterday held tears and a deep feeling of mortality. Today I feel vulnerable and very, very alive. Maybe because of all the loss. Maybe I am overtired. Maybe because I am searching for the positive now everywhere I go, this morning was life affirming — though I have a handkerchief on the ready in my coat pocket.

A bunch of people being human who help each other. I will take it.

Thanks for reading, friend.

Anja Rozen, Slovenia, aged 13
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