Airport Lessons

You can learn a lot about life in an airport.

Solomon was a wealthy man, but he never flew on an airplane. He rode in fancy chariots, but never a 747 or a DC-9. He didn't catch the red-eye out of LA or spend a snowy night stranded at O'Hare. He never lost his luggage in Atlanta or struggled to fasten his seatbelt in a coach seat that was six inches too small.

Nevertheless, as a frequent flier and an admirer of the book of Ecclesiastes, I am convinced Solomon would have found a lot to write about in a modern airport. He would have smiled knowingly as he watched the weary throngs coming and going with boarding passes clutched in their hands. An airport is a philosophy classroom full of lessons about the meaning of life. For example:

Everybody has baggage.

Being on the move isn't the same as really going somewhere.

Life means constantly saying goodbye.

There's only so much baggage that anyone can carry without help.

The majority of people don't care where anyone else is going.

It takes a team effort to go anywhere. In their own way, the mechanic and the baggage handler behind the scenes are more important than the agents up front who handle your ticket.

Money talks, but it sends mixed messages. You can't travel very far without the cash or credit to pay your way; but no matter how much money you have, you aren't guaranteed a smooth ride.

"First class" may get you a better seat, but you still end up at the same destination.

There are many things you cannot control. You can't rule the weather. You don't get to decide who all your fellow passengers will be.

Delays are inevitable. You will spend a significant part of your journey simply waiting around. Impatience won't get you to your destination a moment sooner, but it can make any journey seem a lot longer.

Food tastes better when you sit and enjoy it, instead of gulping it down on the run.

Security is important, but no journey worth making is completely without risk.

To reach your destination, you have to trust your well-being to a pilot whose voice you rarely hear and whose face you seldom see.

You're not alone. Your fellow travelers are going to breathe your air, use your restroom, share your space. But if you need assistance someone will push your wheelchair or help you carry your bags.

Babies make the trip harder, but also more fun. Babies cry a lot when they travel—but then so would the rest of us, if we allowed ourselves.

There's a big difference between going the same direction and having the same purpose. Some passengers are thrilled to be on the plane to Houston; others wish they were going anywhere but there.

Life is an odd mixture of work and pleasure. The frowning, stressed-out businessman in a suit and tie boards the same plane as a giddy young woman headed for Miami Beach. Teens on a mission trip to serve the poor sit across the aisle from half-drunk revelers on their way to Las Vegas.

Once you take off, there's no turning back.

For every sad farewell, there's a happy return.

And in the end, when all your travels are over, there's sweet delight in simply coming home.