Have you ever been to an airport and just watched around you? I have and I love it. To me it has always seemed that a tiny cosmos is contained within the walls of a terminal building. Although both tell a plethora of stories, I prefer the arrival areas over the departure lounges, for they tell the ones with happy endings. Or mostly so at least.
The last few weeks have had me awaiting the arrival of sundry guests at Heathrow. And in spite of the London Tube’s best efforts I usually find myself at the airport rather earlier than required. So I just perch myself on one of the seats next to the arrival gates and lose myself in the humdrum of life…
Little children running to greet their father, coming probably from a business trip, the father craving for the tiny hands around his neck as he scoops them up and they plant a sloppy kiss on each of his cheeks.
Elderly parents searching the crowds for a glimpse of their daughter, returning perhaps from university for a holiday; the mother’s eyes brimming with tears of joy when she catches sight of the girl.
The new wife, eagerly awaiting her husband’s approach and meeting him half way, shyly embracing him, conveying the pain of separation and the joy of reunion together with just her glance; the husband gathering her in his arms, not wanting to let go.
The boyfriend and the girlfriend, hugging and kissing, oblivious to the chaos around, only seeing each other.
Two friends greeting their third pal with a high five, a slap on the back and the choicest of curse words all meant to convey only happiness.
The middle aged woman standing by her large suitcase, glancing at her watch every few seconds, disappointment written across her face as she waits for someone who should have been there long ago; frustration finally makes her wheel away her luggage as she makes her way out alone, for whoever it was didn’t seem to think it important enough to be here for her.
The brother with his family, there to receive the sister with hers, their children saying tentative hellos to each other, their spouses exchanging polite niceties while the brother and the sister are transported back to their childhood, meeting like they would have as a little boy and a little girl.
What are their stories? What are their little joys and sorrows? What drives them, what makes them tick? I wonder as I watch them and find myself getting lost in the lives of people I would never know, people I will never see again. Yet I feel drawn to them, because for that briefest of moments, I was privy to their innermost emotions. Aren’t airports just like the world, with life just happening all around?
3 comments:
hmm. maybe i should start picking up rather than getting picked up :)
sounds like you've become quite the people-watcher. i would hate to have seen the middle aged woman go alone though. i want to visit airports in india where people jump at elders' feet. yes.
... I love the hugs... people seem to forget everything and just stay in each other's arms... also love surprises... when u suddenly find someone waiting for u! Best feeling in the world knowing someone cares so much!:)
@megha: Not people watcher. Just bored-airport-picker-upper :)
@mastram: Surprises yes! Absolutely the best part. Unfortunately no one who picks me are capable of surprising...they always let it slip
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