Nicaragua: Time that we make amends
Airports, perhaps, are the most emotion-filled of all places. Some travelers express excitement in exchanging their day-to-day routine for an escape to another place on vacation; on the return trip home, they are a mixture of rejuvenation from the days prior and melancholy for the days to come. Some lose themselves in dreaming about the loved one who will be waiting to pick them up; others weep for the ones they have left behind, not knowing when they will next be reunited. Some are nervous about making it through customs and immigration. Some are upset over delayed, cancelled, and missed flights. As in my most recent experience, some travel for reasons of bereavement.
Adding to all of these emotions a fire-damaged air control tower creates a recipe for pure chaos. I passed through Chicago O'Hare three days after the episode which cancelled an entire day's worth of flights, so I did not come close to experiencing the mess that occurred immediately following an employee's arson attempt. However, I did witness part of the aftermath. This is my story:
I was scheduled to leave Minneapolis on a 7:20pm flight, arrive to Chicago at 8:40pm, and wait until my next flight departed Chicago at 5:15am. By the time my first flight actually departed, the clock struck 9pm; we pulled into O'Hare just before 11pm. Since it was well-past my normal bedtime, I arrived in a groggy state; therefore, my sole mission upon arrival was to search the terminal for a cozy place to make my bed for a few hours (as cozy as sleeping in an airport gets, anyway). I strolled passed closed restaurants and practically-deserted waiting areas, and after five minutes I came upon the terminal's main concourse. A place normally active with travelers rushing every which way, I found it transformed into a peaceful place of slumber, filled with probably 100 cots for the weary to catch some shut-eye. I claimed one, set down my backpack, kicked off my shoes, received a blanket and pillow from one of the security guards, and laid my emotionally-exhausted head to rest. I awoke one REM cycle later, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my backpack, returned the blanket and pillow, and received a toiletry kit as I set off towards my gate.
I experienced something beautifully unifying in that moment. As I glanced around at the strangers present in that concourse, I noticed skin colors of every shade and heard whispers in a variety of languages. We came from every corner of the world, yet we all had one thing in common: we were tired. A simple look into the eyes of a fellow traveler in that time and place was met with mutual response:
I know you have a story.
I have one too.
There is no need to explain.
I understand.
Just grab a pillow.
Rest.
We are safe here.
Everything will be okay.
That night, the simple display of hospitality in the form of strangers' sympathy, cots, pillows, blankets, and toiletries ignited a spark of hope in my heart. Despite the difficult and downright terrible occurrences in this world, threads of good remain. Let us remember to reflect on these moments. May we recognize that the potential for peace is contained within the most seemingly-insignificant moments: a tired smile, a quiet concourse, an impromptu slumber party.
Adding to all of these emotions a fire-damaged air control tower creates a recipe for pure chaos. I passed through Chicago O'Hare three days after the episode which cancelled an entire day's worth of flights, so I did not come close to experiencing the mess that occurred immediately following an employee's arson attempt. However, I did witness part of the aftermath. This is my story:
I was scheduled to leave Minneapolis on a 7:20pm flight, arrive to Chicago at 8:40pm, and wait until my next flight departed Chicago at 5:15am. By the time my first flight actually departed, the clock struck 9pm; we pulled into O'Hare just before 11pm. Since it was well-past my normal bedtime, I arrived in a groggy state; therefore, my sole mission upon arrival was to search the terminal for a cozy place to make my bed for a few hours (as cozy as sleeping in an airport gets, anyway). I strolled passed closed restaurants and practically-deserted waiting areas, and after five minutes I came upon the terminal's main concourse. A place normally active with travelers rushing every which way, I found it transformed into a peaceful place of slumber, filled with probably 100 cots for the weary to catch some shut-eye. I claimed one, set down my backpack, kicked off my shoes, received a blanket and pillow from one of the security guards, and laid my emotionally-exhausted head to rest. I awoke one REM cycle later, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my backpack, returned the blanket and pillow, and received a toiletry kit as I set off towards my gate.
I experienced something beautifully unifying in that moment. As I glanced around at the strangers present in that concourse, I noticed skin colors of every shade and heard whispers in a variety of languages. We came from every corner of the world, yet we all had one thing in common: we were tired. A simple look into the eyes of a fellow traveler in that time and place was met with mutual response:
I know you have a story.
I have one too.
There is no need to explain.
I understand.
Just grab a pillow.
Rest.
We are safe here.
Everything will be okay.
That night, the simple display of hospitality in the form of strangers' sympathy, cots, pillows, blankets, and toiletries ignited a spark of hope in my heart. Despite the difficult and downright terrible occurrences in this world, threads of good remain. Let us remember to reflect on these moments. May we recognize that the potential for peace is contained within the most seemingly-insignificant moments: a tired smile, a quiet concourse, an impromptu slumber party.
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