I do not fly much. In fact, I fly so little that in 2008, when I had to fly twice in three months, I had to take the whole summer off to recover and didn't fly for another two years. It was not anxiety or anything like that I just didn't like not being home. There were no delays or issues at that time, it was just too much flying. I had taken 18 students to NYC in March, and then my sisters and I traveled to Chicago in June. We flew with the girls to California for Disneyland (we did the road trip when they were smaller), I've gone to NY and Chicago a few times, Texas, Florida recently and of course the biggie, Dublin. That's really it. I honestly do not fly much at all. I'm a road tripper if I can make it happen. There is nothing more comforting than neon at 1 am and an open gas station--which post Covid, isn't happening so much any more. I had a lovely conversation with Joe, the man who fixes our garage door (because it is 30 years old and the cost to fix the doors will require taking a second out on the house), the other day. He is a lovely man in his late sixties, who believes the Russians hacked Southwest Airlines ( I was sharing my story with him), are behind the pipeline hack, and that unemployment pays too much and that's why his sister cannot staff her restaurant in California. He also believes after they're done with the airlines, the Russians will get wise and target truck stops, bringing all travel to a screeching halt. So much for my road trip idea. I guess we're all screwed. Do svidaniya.
In movies and literature there are a gazillion examples of why airports are fabulous. You see reunions, people hugging and sobbing. You see departures, people hugging and sobbing. You see two year olds screaming that they do not want to go to there ("there" can be anywhere from the bathroom to their seat at the gate to Baltimore). You see older people struggling with those evil Skynet kiosks at check in, which the airlines finally figured out were evil and have now staffed a human to stand by. Frustrated humans move when their gate is changed and calmly clutch their ID and claim check when their baggage has been lost. How do you lose bags? Honestly, they have a tag with the CITY on them. To be honest, I believe we see a lot of People Holding It Together at an airport. The idea of being in public, in real public with so many strangers keeps most folks over age 6 in check. My favorite part is Hudson Books, who I've only seen at airports. I like to pretend they are the remainder of the great Dayton Hudson conglomerate for whom I worked for ten years. DH owned B. Dalton. Alas, it is not so, they are a different company. But do not bother me with your facts, I am an American and I like to believe what I want. Anyway, they keep their selection nice and small, and I love it. This last trip I picked up a new Stephen King, who is more than the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and fries, as he likes to proclaim. I've never been stressed out at an airport is my point. I buy a book and settle in for hours. That is off topic, but thanks for hanging in there.
Which is why melting down in Chicago-twice-last week has me so baffled. I watched a two year old scream her head off in Orlando, she was not having any of any of it, and was transferred from mom to dad with no change in her screaming. When we got stuck in Chicago, it was this child that I thought of, and admired. An airport is not a restaurant, you aren't disturbing other diners with your hysteria. It's not on an airplane, where everyone is trapped in a metal tube with a Tasmanian devil. It's not a grocery store or a mall where everyone stares at the parent until they remove the child. Airports are different. Everyone there knows you cannot leave the scene or the pandemonium, but there is plenty of room for others to walk away. This child was trantruming like she was at home. "Dance like no one is watching" is what I thought of. Good for her. Nobody here cares, and her parents weren't trying to calm her down, just change her location. Which is why, when I started to melt down, I did not hold on like every functioning adult does in these situations. I just let go and started crying. Nobody said a word. A few people looked at me, but for the most part the Break Down Rules of the Airport held: they walked away.
Everything has shifted since Covid. Even though I fly infrequently, I've always been a calm traveler. To be fair, I've never been delayed, which speaks to my novice. For 14 months I have been more flexible than a ferret in a twisty tube, stayed home when I was told, went into the building when I was told, taught theatre online and for the most part, relinquished control of most of my life. I thought I was doing OK with that, until the flights were "delayed", which meant "cancelled", and I was stuck in an airport with an unsympathetic airline. I just couldn't hold on another second. The final straw was a stupid flight. I am not that fragile, guys, this made no sense. At least it made no sense in the moment, when I started sobbing in terminal M so badly that it frightened my husband. It scared me too, but it was also a huge relief to lose my shit in public. I can't explain why, but it did. I felt like I could be the example that demonstrated how everyone was feeling, relieving them of their own anxiety, frustration, anger and need to scream or cry. I illustrated their inner selves. Unless they weren't upset or annoyed at all and have had a perfect year of no disruptions or do not care about all of the disruptions and lack of empathy coming off of the airline employees. I clearly did not do it for those people, for the mentally stable and healthy. They're fine.
I suppose mentally stable people lose their shit in the shower, or while bicycling the mountains or something ridiculously healthy. I chose the airport. I hope someone was helped by my exemplar, maybe I'm their new prototype. If I helped only one person with my Vesuvius demonstration, then it was worth it.
I say the same thing about teaching...if I reach just one kid...blah blah blah yappity yap.
So I'm going to call this a Teaching Moment and move on.
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