Airport People

TSO #1

He has the biggest smile on his face that I've ever seen from an officer at a TSA checkpoint. He asks me how I'm doing, genuinely, before looking at my ID and matching the photo to my face in his mind. I say I'm excited to go home to see my husband after my first trip away since our wedding. He's excited for me.

He says, "Have you ever seen the first Batman movie, with um—oh, I should remember the name...anyway—Catwoman! Gosh I can't remember the actress's name. You look a bit like her."

"Oh cool!"

"You should go home and watch it."

"I guess I'll have to," I laugh.

"Have a great rest of your day, miss,"

"Thanks, you too!"

Suspicious Dude

He's ahead of me in the check line and doesn't seem much older than me. I wait for him to load his belongings into the bins on the conveyor. Doodled-on white sneakers, backpack...

He's rummaging around in his gray sweatpant-pockets, as if he's looking for something. Why wouldn't you just shovel everything out? I peek at his hands, trying to catch sight of what's getting left inside. Sunflower seeds?

He walks on in his stocking-feet. My turn. Backpack, shoes, jacket...and empty pockets.

I pass through the metal detector, and sure enough, he's off to the side getting patted down by TSO #2. TSO #2 feels something in his pocket, says it must be change or something, and asks him to empty. The dude refuses—says the detector didn't find anything and he's being duped. He's a really bad liar. He mouths off a bit, arguing with TSO #2. TSO #2 is not happy and sends him to a private screening. I'm glad to get out of that line with my things and be on my way to my gate.

Jean Jacket, Sweatpants, and 4-Wheel Suitcase Guy

He walks by as I'm leaning against a wall corner across from my gate, which is conveniently right next to TSA. I notice that he seems like a fashionable man: he's got the athleisure-in-a-jean-jacket look—a typical young adult guy in an airport in 2023. I stand away from the seating area rather than sitting; it's pretty packed. I wanted to call Sam, but can't get any service. Darn concrete walls. Eventually, I see a couple chairs open at the very edge of the seating area on the end of the row, nearest the concourse's main walkway. It's an open seat, but one that doesn't seem so squished up against a bunch of strangers. I lift my very stuffed backpack by its top handle and start making my way over. Jean jacket guy reappears, walking back from where he had just traversed a minute ago. Oh no, this isn't his gate is it? Man, he's gonna take that chair. Please don't take the chair. He saunters closer with his suitcase rolling silently beside him like a well-behaved dog, and he slides into it before I'm even half-way across the floor to get there. Welp, ok. I make a 180 turn and go back to my convex corner.

Gianna

I inch toward my seat in the single-file aisle line as we board. It pauses, and I take inventory of my surroundings to pass the time (30 seconds or so) before the line moves again. She's sitting in a window seat to my right, grinning from ear to ear with translucent purple glasses on her face and tight curls pulled up into a ponytail.

She catches my eye line a couple times before I say hi, and she joyfully says hi back.

"Are you so excited to fly?" I ask.

She nods excitedly.

"It's her first time," her mom says with a smile.

"Ohhh, that's so exciting! Well I hope you have lots of fun." It strikes me as I settle into 14D—this is the return trip of my first time flying alone. She and I are each experiencing firsts.

Just before takeoff, the flight attendant says over the intercom, "Shoutout to Gianna and [little boy's name], our first time flyers on this trip tonight!"

Tanya and her Significant Other

Her unnaturally noir locks are ironed-straight. She's taller, trim, and wearing black—black that matches her hair. She's got a nice bag and sunglasses resting on her head, phone in hand.

Her significant other is a taller, solidly build man who looks to be a couple years older than her, though maybe not by too much. He has a thick, gold-colored watch on his hand; he looks like he's got family in the mob or something.

The pair was on my inbound flight: the one where maybe-mob-connected husband called her name a bunch to get her attention various times. She didn't seem bothered.

They appear in my vision as I look up from my seat, and my memory from just a few days before flips into place like a deck of cards. Tanya. Her guy doesn't frequently say her name this time; they just shuffle into their seats like everyone else on this getting-late evening.

Arlene

I let her go in front of me as we boarded the plane on the jetway. I complimented her bag. It's navy blue with magenta flowers and yellow accents.

I get to my seat and there she is: my only row-buddy. She's sitting by the window and I'm on the aisle with no one between us. She's from New England, too. She tells me about her son she came to visit and shows me his business card. We compare wedding rings. She left her husband at home for this trip, too. She asks what I visited for. Our conversation fades as we get close to takeoff. I read my book, while she looks out the window the whole flight. She doesn't seem to sleep, but there's not much to see out the window when it's dark and you're up that high. We land, deplane, and make our way through the terminal to the exit. She says it was very nice talking with you, I say you as well. She tells me good luck with my future endeavors and maybe she'll see me again on another flight because she travels there all the time. I say maybe so, because I'll be visiting there soon again, too. She tells me about her grandchildren, and then their names. She asks what I do for work.

I start to say intelligent things about how I got my job as we round to the exit, but lose my train of thought and with it, the name of my job title, when I see Sam in the corner of my eye stand up from his seat by the escalators, waiting for me. I barely finish my thought, followed by a, "...and this is my husband," with semi-jazz hands while I present him. It was a blur as she quickly says hi to him, I throw out "have-a-good-one", she walks on to the downward escalator, and I'm engulfed by Sam as he wraps his arms around my shoulders in a tight, warm hug. Arrived.