A Few Hours or More at the Airport

W. Bruce Cameron

Editor’s Note: The following column was originally published in 2007.

In this berserk, time-bankrupt world, I believe I should be grateful for an opportunity to spend several peaceful, uneventful hours sitting on an airport runway with the seatbelt sign on. It provides me with time to look inward, toward my bladder. After an afternoon of controlled breathing, I feel as though I’ve gotten in touch with my inner child — the child who used to wet his pants.

There’s a reason pilots hold their passengers hostage for hours and hours: It’s so when they announce they’re finally returning to the airport, you’ll applaud like they’ve just landed you in Maui. You’ll knock over old ladies to get up that jetway and burst into the terminal grinning as though you’ve won at Powerball.

“Terminal,” I’ll remind you, is another word for “dead,” because if you stay there too long, you will be.

Airport concourses are designed to be completely hostile to human comfort, as if to counter the possibility of people using the gate areas to hold wedding receptions. The couches were built by the same companies that manufacture prison electric chairs, and with the same philosophy in mind: No one is going to be sitting in them very long anyway, so why make them comfy? They’re as bumpy as the spine of a dinosaur, though I do understand that a few airports have improved them somewhat by putting in phones so you can make an appointment with your chiropractor.

There are, however, people who can sleep on the ribbed sofas: airport employees. At least, this is my theory as to where they go when you decide to seek out someone to answer a very reasonable question: Now that I’ve used the bathroom, when will I be allowed back on the plane?

The answer is on the monitor: Your flight is “delayed.” There, now you know.

Other words on the monitor provide even more information. Mechanical, for example, means “there’s something wrong with the plane that we can’t fix so we’ll be departing shortly.” Crew delayed means “‘American Idol’ is still on.” Canceled due to weather means “no one told us it snows in Chicago.”

For especially long delays, airlines will sometimes offer up meal vouchers, which is how you find yourself standing in line for 30 minutes in order to obtain a free pretzel and a Sprite. (For an extra $8, you can upgrade the meal to a jellybean bagel and a packet of Splenda.)

Occasionally, a large cart will drive past, beeping loudly, hauling a load of passengers who gaze at you blankly. These passengers are people who have signed up for the airlines’ “See the Stranded Travelers” tour. You stare at them hopefully, but they’ve been warned they shouldn’t feed you.

At least you have something to look at: Planes are taking off, though they are the planes that belong to the other bankrupt airlines. When you demand an explanation from the gate agent, she tells you those planes are all going to Cleveland. “Do you want to go to Cleveland?” she challenges.

Chastened, you admit that, no, that is something you do not want to do.

“Then find an uncomfortable chair, and sit in it until we decide it’s time for you to go back on the runway for a few hours!” she orders.

Eventually, the mechanics report that in their opinion the plane will explode on takeoff, which apparently the pilot feels would be some sort of impediment to his career. A replacement plane has been found, much to the disappointment of the mechanics, who thought a fireball would be cool.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the agent announces, “we’ll be switching from gate A-1 to gate F-45. Your plane departs in 11 minutes. Ready, set, go!”

It’s hard to run after eating a jellybean bagel, but you’re determined not to be left behind. Up ahead, a passenger senses you gaining on him and throws something at you to trip you up — his mother-in-law.

Once on the plane, you pull away from the gate and sit on the runway. You gaze out the window, waving goodbye to your luggage, until finally the plane lifts off, taking you to your final destination:

Another airport.

To write Bruce Cameron, visit his Website at http://www.wbrucecameron.com. To find out more about Bruce Cameron and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at http://www.creators.com.

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