Look out! Coming through. Just get outta the way! These people move too fast and I am gonna get killed. As someone who has been described as moving about as fast as a turtle in molasses, adjusting to the big city is a little difficult. That’s why I don’t live here. Even in my prime as a dedicated runner my pace was less than awesome. One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady doesn’t win the race, but still gets me from point A to point B. And often allows me to enjoy the journey more than the hares of the world.
I was taking a trip to another state and the easiest and most sensible way to travel was by air. My little town had an airport, but you can hardly get anywhere from there so I had to go to the big city. And the big airport.
Must be getting close I thought when the traffic on the road started whizzing by me at supersonic speeds. Concrete barriers at the median display skid marks from the tires of those vehicles launching themselves into space. Fast and furious. Bumper to bumper.
Arriving at the parking area I thought I was safe. A quick shuttle ride to the terminal and I was home free. Quick was an understatement. They don’t put seatbelts in those shuttle buses and as I watched the bodies and bags flying around inside of the one I was riding I thought, ”What is the rush?” I guess for the driver the rush was feeling like an Indy car driver. For me, there was no rush. Another shuttle would be along in several minutes.
Inside the terminal I got a break until I headed for the security screen. There was a long line and it looked like it might be slow. Everyone was emptying pockets and stripping down waiting for their turn. I think some people must really enjoy this procedure as they were pushing and shoving to get closer to the front of the line. Score! I jumped ten places in line!
A couple pounds of titanium inhabit my spine these days so I was a little nervous about setting off the alarm. Sure enough, when I went through something happened and they pulled me aside. Let me pat down your knee the TSA guy says. My knee? What was that about? Through security I was headed to the proper terminal. I was thinking of riding the train.
Too damn crowded. All these people pushing their way down the escalator toward the train. People packed in there like sardines. And this was the first stop so it was just going to get more crowded. I’ll take the people mover. I’ll just stay to the right, in the slow lane.
What a fortuitous decision! Along the way, I wasn’t just walking through a dark tunnel. Or even through just a lighted tunnel. It was a museum gallery! Along one stretch there were a series of large sculptures from Africa. Another section had pictures and displays of the history of Georgia. Fascinating stuff and I would have spent several hours down there but I hadn’t allowed that much time for myself.
The gate was already crowded when I got there. People hurriedly waiting for their plane. Even the dude wearing the Hell’s Angels colors was in a rush as he was flying back to Arizona rather than riding! Me, I strolled up to the waiting area and took a seat. Now I could people watch. And wonder who they all were and where they were going in such a hurry. Sure, I was travelling for pleasure and many of them were on the move for business. I get that. But more importantly, I knew that I would get to my destination at the same speed as all of my fellow passengers having enjoyed the sights considerably more.
That’s part of my story. What’s yours? www.personalhistorywriter.cpom