Life at the Airport Part Two

My heart pounded as I raced across what seemed like miles and miles. My breath came in gasps and my eyes darted nervously from place to place in search of the one I was to follow. My heavy backpack thunked against my back and I raced to keep up with him. What if...

Ok, let me back up a bit. On my last blog, I spoke of life in an airport and how we were traveling across the country to promote "77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference: Ideas and Activities for Serving Others." We had a flight delay, finally boarded the plane, landed safely for our connecting flight...but then as I glanced down at my wrinkled flight plan paper, I realized we had only 10 minutes to catch our connecting flight due to our hour and 15 minute delay.

This would not have been so bad if things had gone smoothly, but they didn't. We landed near Concourse F. I was ecstatic because we had been inadvertantly told by airport personnel that our gate would be from Concourse F. When we landed and checked the boards, we realized this wasn't the case, well not unless we were flying to Tallahassee or Mexico, in which case we weren't. No, in reality, we would be boarding our connecting flight out of Concourse C a mere three alphabets away. Now, with 8 minutes to spare, Lon and I looked at each other and knew what we must do. We've been married for 16 years and can read each other's minds at times (scary!) We must, in record time, reach our gate lest we be stuck in the airport for the next flight and suffer as Tom Hanks had in that airport movie he was in.

Lon grabbed our two suitcases and I fixed the large black backpack securely on my back. Did I mention that Lon has a bad back and I have a bad leg? Lon began to run, recalling his days as a track star in high school. Although athletic, I was never a track star, but I recalled how I am always "running late" to appointments, school, and my children's activities. With such memories, we RAN through the airport. Now, if it was empty, running through Chicago O'Hare would be no big deal. But this wasn't the case. The airport was EXTREMELY crowded. I'm talking shoulder to shoulder people. This is still such a culture shock for Lon and I as we are such small town people. We don't see this many people at once in our town EVER. Herds of antelope, yes. Herds of people, no.

"Excuse me!" we said nearly every minute. The worst is when you get locked behind a group of very slow-moving folks with a 9 hour layover and you can't get around them. Fortunately, Lon is not a small man and he paved the way for both of us, yes, with more recollections of playing defensive end in high school football. (Why is it that in airports so many school memories come to mind?)

My heart began to pound and I tried desperately to keep my focus on Lon, who at times was far ahead of me. I know now that next time I will convince him to wear a flourescent green shirt so he stands out. The heavy backpack (about 30 pounds) thunked against my back. I prayed constantly that if it was the Lord's will, we would reach Concourse C and catch our flight. I didn't even want to think about missing my TV appearance.

It was as if we were in a movie - as if the bad guys were after us as we ran through the airport to take the highly-confidential, world-saving, government information to the FBI, who was waiting for us in Concourse C. Our informant had told us Concourse F, but now come to find out, our informant was really on the side of the bad guys... All we needed was that highly dramatized music.

Have you ever run on those little moving sidewalks? It's not easy. Have you ever catapulted over suitcases with rolly wheels? So many times I nearly tripped over the suitcases of others. Lon jumped over them as if he were jumping hurdles in track and field. I desperately looked for a way around them, and then stumbled over them wishing there was thick plush carpet in the airport. Every time we would think we were close to our destination, there would be another sign with an arrow. We considered the subway, but after seeing the line, knew that to continue to run was our best method.

After a mile of running, we reached Concourse C. Thank the Lord we had two, yes two, minutes left of boarding our flight. Have you ever been out of breath from sheer anxiety and then were gasping for air in the closed-up confines of a plane?

Phew! Thankfully we reached our plane and made it to our destination. It's always amazing to me that even in the small things of the threat of missing a plane, God is there, guiding us through it all.