20/10 – Airports…

Sometimes, airports make me want to crack out in uncontrolled laughter and sometimes they just make me feel like sitting down and cry. Or more specifically, it’s not the airports as such, but the atmosphere in there, the different feelings reflected in people’s eyes and the physical behaviour and body language of my fellow travellers. I can spend hours observing them at the gates or after walking through the terminal doors with my over loaded baggage trolley.

A while back, I arrived at Kastrup airport, after a few days in Sweden I think it was. Probably one of those trips, where I rushed around according to a minute schedule and tried to catch up with as much family and friends as possible. Normally, the set-up would have a pattern like Arlanda, Stockholm, Norrtälje, Alsike, Uppsala, Flogsta, Uppsala, Uppsala, Sunnersta, Bergsbrunna, Arlanda. Arrival, friends, grandmother, brother, parents, another friend, one last friend, Bibbi, some friend’s parents or sister as a bonus, breakfast with parents, departure. Should probably not even try to count the number of cups of coffee and sweet bread which pass through my system per day during those trips. But no doubt about it, it’s worth every second and every cinnamon bun. 

 Anyway, I was back at Kastrup again and making my way from the arrival gate, through to the baggage claim and to the metro, which was going to bring me close enough to home.

While I was walking the B-gate corridor with my normal high pace and heavy, decisive steps I realised that I was about to pass Mr and Mrs Grandparent. Nothing strange with that, if it wasn’t for their dear plant, neatly planted in a white plastic cup with a plastic bag around it for the occasion. Arriving from who-knows-where, walking hand in hand, slowly and carefully watching every step. The Mrs G with her handbag in a secure grip and her husband with a firm hand around the tiny trunk of their pristine plant. Of course, the plant should come along, why haven’t I ever thought of that? I should have brought my old companion High Chaparral when I left for Holland in 2003 and he might have been around still.

Or perhaps it was just a goof to spread some joy and make people smile? Or candid camera? It’s not very often I’ve seen something causing so many busy people fighting massive outbursts of laughter. Myself included.

On the contrary, you have those other moments, which make me want to walk towards the trains as quickly as possible and just get out of that horrible place. That’s when I see the eyes of someone waiting, with flowers bought at the kiosk by the exit, not really sure of what the reaction of the person, who will walk through the frosted sliding doors, will be. So much hope, so much anxiety, so much happiness, so much sadness. At the very same arrival as when I saw the old folks with the tree, the two eyes I met on the other side of the fence made my heart hurt all the way through. I just wanted to walk up to him and tell him it would all be all right – she’ll be thrilled to see you again. But something deep down in his eyes told me that I would probably have been lying if I did.