JFK

I really hate flying from JFK, but since they have the only non-stop flight to San Francisco, there I was yesterday, rushing through the hallways of the busiest airport in New York, trying to make it to my flight on time.

Of course as usual, the gates were mislabeled and I found myself running late, having spent half an hour in queue for the wrong security checkpoint. I rushed towards the (hopefully) right security check point, excusing myself through the long line of people, all expressing their annoyance at me in all sorts of different ways.

JFK is perhaps the lowest point on earth when it comes to compassion. People somehow leave all sense of empathy at the door, and all you'd find inside is scores of passengers devoid of any feeling for their fellow man! One man was particularly awash of all traces of sympathy. He snared at me:

"Hey buddy! We're all waiting in line here, is there something special about you?!"

I ignored him at first, I don't know if there's something special about me. I had already explained to him that I was late for my flight because of mislabeled gates. If I were in his shoes, I would have totally let a nervous, apologetic stranger through. Maybe that's something special about me?

Anyway, I decided to indulge him.
"I'm going to miss my flight. What time does your flight board?"
Same as mine... turns out he was heading the same way. He too was fooled by the wrong gate labels.
"Then what are you doing in line? We're both going to miss the flight buddy!"
Eventually he cut through the line like me... all the while he didn't even look me in the eyes. I wasn't a person, I was an entity that cut through his line and bothered him.
"I'm sorry man. I hate cutting the line! But they mislabel the gates and then what can you do?"
He still didn't respond, or even look in my general direction. He was prepared to pass security and it was irrelevant at that point what I had to say. The entity that had bothered him was no longer a bother and so he simply ignored it.

Anyway, still late and still nervous, I put my stuff on the belt when my turn came. Took my shoes off, exposed all liquids that I had put in a transparent Ziploc container as instructed. took of my belt and made sure nothing I'm carrying would cause the stupid machine to ring... I've done this a million times and still I feel nervous. Or maybe violated, like an Ameba under a very foreign microscope.

I ran for about five minutes until I reached the gate then breathed a sigh of relief as I boarded into a weird bus that was connected to the building. I figured the bus must take us to the plane as sometimes the gates are too crowded to accommodate the planes directly. We all sat in the bus, most of us showing signs of having been running. It must be the stupid gate sign that caused all this trouble. Still the silence was thick and people wouldn't communicate even as much as by eye contact.

An old woman walked into the bus, nervous as hell. She had white hair, and was visibly frail and flimsy. She was panting audibly and you could tell she didn't fly much before. As soon as she barged in she started looking at her ticket, then at the seats in front of her.
"Where are the numbers?" She asked loudly at nobody in particular.
I immediately understood what she was asking, and tried my best to hide my grin. I don't think anybody else understood her though. The others tried their best to ignore her existence but finally a lady replied:
"This is the flight for San Francisco"
"No, but where are the seat numbers"
Again silence, but I could feel the tension in the bus diffuse so quickly.
"No this is just a bus, it's going to take us to the plane soon"
The poor old lady had thought the bus was a plane. I tried not to look around but I'm pretty sure everybody was trying hard to keep a straight face.
Finally someone beside me said
"Look it's a bus, it has no wings!"
"Although I wish they made planes like this, it would be much more comfy" I said.
We weren't making fun of her. We were just trying to make her comfortable. She was visibly exhausted and very nervous. And after she asked such a stupid question we were trying to assure her the way you'd assure a little kid that things are fine.

The tension in the room had completely disappeared. Everyone started making little and big jokes about the bus and the plane. In turn people started asking the old woman where she was heading and whom she was meeting. I started looking around much more freely and exchanging eye contact with my neighbors more openly. People were even starting to smile at each other and exchange comments about this nerve-wrecking gate mismatch and JFK in general.

The point is, I am SO glad this old woman was so stupid. We really needed her there. We needed her stupid questions and her obvious lack of sophistication. I wouldn't have been as satisfied, relieved, or interested had it been Albert Einstein that walked into that bus.