The Regional Airport

A trip to the airport is very much like a first date; your nervous and excited, there may be a few mandatory pat downs, and both firearms and explosives are strictly prohibited. Unlike a date however, one doesn’t necessarily count on walking the pilot to his door at the end of the night and asking awkwardly for a goodnight kiss.
In a recent visit to a small regional airport I came to notice a few differences between it and the larger airline variety. For example, I am quite certain the small airport with which I recently became acquainted was manned by a staff of no more than two people. My first clue came when I approached the United Air desk to check my luggage and ensure that my flight arrangements were in order. The woman was pleasant enough, however it seemed as if beneath her thin layer of tolerance was a very hungry Saber Toothed Tiger, jowls quivering.
“May I see your online confirmation, sir?”
I reached slowly and cautiously into my bag, not wanting any sudden movements to alert the dormant beast to my fear. Finally I felt it and handed it over obediently.
“This is a 5 year warranty for a Kingston toilet, sir.”
“Ah,” I replied, “so it is.”
I replaced the warranty in my bag and identified my flight information before handing it over. The woman then began to type so rapidly and for such an extended period of time that I was forced to draw two possible conclusions: either she was, in fact, insane, and was entering completely incoherent commands- the way a toddler might smash his fists on a keyboard; or that this woman had absolutely no affiliation with the airline and had wandered in from across the street and decided to play a pretend game.
Finally she looked up, contorted her face into something that I’m sure was meant to be a smile, handed me my boarding pass, and instructed me to proceed through security. I stopped briefly in the restroom, and then did as I was told.
“Please remove all metallic items from your pocket or person and place them in the tray to be sent through the scanner.”
I began rummaging through my clothes and emptying the contents into the tray.
“That should be it,” I said looking up.
I came face to face with what I swear was the same woman who gave me my boarding pass not five minutes ago. Except that she now wore a red cap.
Now mind you each of the locations I have mentioned thus far (baggage check, bathroom, security) are all within about thirty yards of each other. Such was the size of the regional airport.
Staring into the woman’s face, I opened my mouth to voice my question, thought better of it, and closed it again. Taking a step to the left I was able to clearly distinguish the desk where I was given my boarding pass.
There was no one there.
Stepping back before what I swear was the same woman, I opened my mouth…and closed it again.
“Is there a problem, sir?” asked the monotone tiger.
“No, no I’m fine.”
I was then ushered through the metal detector. On the other side was an elderly man in an ancient guard suit snoring heavily at the ceiling, his mouth creating a cavern wide enough for a cave diver to seriously consider spelunking.
The metal detector was silent as I passed through so I collected my things. While it was refreshing to attend an airport that didn’t require a pat down so thorough that you questioned your virtue or were forced to politely ask the guy if he would prefer to go out for dinner first, I’m not entirely sure what this venerable old guard would have done had the detector beeped in protest, since by his appearance he was unmistakably post-mortem.
Ascending a short escalator I came to the one and only terminal, which was appropriately named Terminal 1.
I sat near the window, patiently awaiting my flight time. My gaze wandered to the window and the plane beyond. Spotting what was undoubtedly the only plane, I noticed two individuals on the tarmac loading a small compartment beneath the wing of the plane with a few pieces of luggage. Noticing something familiar about the people, I got to my feet and stood against the glass peering at the two figures. On the right was a woman who resembled a Saber Toothed Tiger with her hair in a tight bun and on the left was an aged guard slumped in a wheelchair, mouth open against the sky, apparently deceased.
At once I whipped around and dashed the short distance to the escalator. Looking down, I saw the security area from whence I came…empty.
Very confused I glanced at my watch and noticed it was time to board. I made my way to the door leading from the terminal to the plane. Standing before it, my eyes fell upon the pre-flight attendant responsible for checking boarding passes.
It was her. This time wearing a long jacket and braids.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.
I handed over my pass.
“Thank you sir and enjoy your flight.”
I said nothing, but gave her a look that clearly said, ‘I’m on to you,’ and boarded the plane- which was roughly the size of the short bus used to transport special needs children to and from school.

Currently 8.67/10
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Rating: 8.7 out of 3 votes cast