Postcard from SFO, 8.27.20

Photo: Martin Haro.
Laughing, living, waiting. SFO, 8.27.20

Thinking about air travel during a pandemic becomes clearer when you’re doing air travel during a pandemic.

There I was last week, honey, sitting in First, which never happens (just the once…and the one way this first once, for that matter, OK). What – if you had the option these pandemic times, you, too, would throw a few more nickels at the matter for the peace o’ mind of being nearest to the exit come landing time. People are animals on planes; we are just at that level now. I suppose I should reconcile it with the amusing, and let it roll off of my back moving forward. (I simply don’t get it: I mean, you’ve been told – in fact, quite nicely asked – to let the passengers that need to rush to make their connections, y’ know, deplane first, but, oh no. No, no: You have to get up and go first, and get in the way. Because you’re a.…)

See? There I go.

Back to the gate.

There I was last week, looking out the window, seeing the United crew on the ground laughing. They’d attached the luggage belt to the plane and were waiting for our bags to arrive planeside. So they were waiting, as we were waiting. A nice woman sat in the seat to my left and oh-so-carefully disinfected both of our surfaces. They continued to wait. And chat. And bond. All four of ’em were laughing with one another. Three dudes and a lady. Four very different faces, united at work and in life. United in America. Working side by side. Laughing together. Loving on one another, just by being with one another. The midmorning late-August sun wanting to shine on them through the clouds and the “typical” summer fog and the smoke from the fires that still won’t quit a week later.

And there I was last week. Watching the world unfold, and going on another trip to live my life. Because life goes on, and we find our ways.

The whole thing made me smile. Gratefulness was in the air.

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