Fading Desert Footprints (Complete)

'The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.' Lao Tzu

I had almost cancelled the trip several times this morning, and the thirty minute cab to the airport seemed to take several hours instead of one.

My bag is checked in, and I am in the waiting lounge for my seat assignment.

As an airline pilot, after a long pairing away, it was always nice to return home. Destination vacations were hard to start; it was like going to work first.

Or, after a week of piloting across the country with stale airplane coffee, airline ham sandwiches, pretzel packages and cellophane cookie pairs with rubbery red centres, and then hotel hamburgers and jalapeño poppers, I looked forward to an evening at home. I often asked Kelly what she would like to do, and she frequently replied with 'let's go out for dinner' in order to escape her daily milieu.

I have not been to the airport since retirement. It felt nostalgic to be back, like returning to a childhood home after years away. That quickly vanished; my toothpaste was confiscated by the neighbourhood bullies at security, and the seats in the crowded boarding area were occupied by the traffic jam of people, bags, and their feet.  

I scan the lounge like an eagle in an aerie surveying the vista; it is packed. My flight is now sold out, and my late planning earned me a middle seat.

In the nearby play area, a couple is watching their child wander through a play structure, swatting at a large 'X's and O's' game. They acknowledge the insignificant achievement with an enthusiastic 'Wow' and a clap. These are vicarious parents, the type to take their child to a lake and watch them swim, without realizing that they could jump into the water too. They are dangerous to sit beside on a plane; they will assume that I enjoy everything their kid does too.

An announcement advises that there would be a thirty minute delay, because maintenance is changing a tire. The counter agent is losing her patience with angry passengers, and offers the standard meaningless corporate apology;

"We are very sorry for the inconvenience."

On my plane, the B737, we can go from 45 C on the ground to -70 C nine miles up, and from sea level pressure of 14.7 psi to 2.7 in a few minutes. To extend the life of the tire from corrosion, and to maintain pressure in those conditions, they are filled with Nitrogen instead of Oxygen, so that you can be reasonably confident that when 60 tons of metal, people, and bags plop on top of the wheel, and then it accelerates instantaneously from zero 170 miles per hour, they will maintain integrity and get you to a gradual stop instead of a sudden one. Once parked at the gate, someone will have a look at them, and make sure they are ready for the next stress test. Occasionally, the tires get tired.

Personally, I am happy when they decide to fix things that might break on a plane, for instance, a worn out tire; no need to wait until it is flat.

I had a tire change once when I was a captain at the gate. Maintenance jacked up the left wheel, and changed it on the spot, like a tire change in the pit of the Daytona 500, except in very slow motion.

Other practiced apologies annoy me more, like bumping passengers for oversold flights and then being 'sorry' that it happened. One wonders why it continues to recur; the solution is not impossible to find.

I hear the pre-board announcement; the elderly and people with babies snail to the gate. I become stressed; there are quite a few. I don't mind sitting beside the elderly, however, someone with an infant will require more room than the parameters of one seat; they don't usually sit on the lap an entire flight. I will also be treated to screaming during takeoff and landing because of the pressure affects on their small ear canals.

There are several young kids boarding; they will be confined for eight hours. It reminds me of when I was young, travelling on long car rides in the backseat with my brother. That was like a Middle East conflict; after getting in trouble for fighting, we drew an imaginary line down the middle of the back seat that we were not allowed to cross. The challenge was to cross it without the other noticing. If they didn't, one had to draw their attention to the infraction, and restart the peace process.