New York

“I just don’t understand why I have to lug the bags all the time.”

They stood towards the end of the long line, waiting to check into their flight like almost every other person in New York. The rain continued to pour, the cars continued to honk, the taxi drivers continued to yell, and the flight attendants continued to take their time checking passports. It was mayhem. As usual.

“And can’t these people move faster? They don’t get paid by the minute, do they?”

Lightning streaked across the sky outside, illuminating the parked cars and people under umbrellas. The line slowly inched forward, only to stop short again. Delays flashed on the overhead screen, eliciting many groans from the crowds of people standing around, waiting.

“If our flight is delayed…”

The line for Starbucks was nearly as long as the line to check in for Flight 102. The smell of coffee permeated the air; caramel seemed to be the choice of the day.

“These damn people are going to be awake the whole flight. Coffee right before their flight! Nobody is considerate these days!”

Thunder clapped and children screamed. The line got longer, and tempers got shorter. Bags were thrown haphazardly onto carts, possibly breaking a few personal belongings.

“Well it’s about time!”

They had reached the front of the line. The flight attendant weighed their luggage, then checked their passports and tickets. They were ushered through the gates, where they went through security. All jewelry was taken off, cell phones were taken out of pockets, and belts were put into little plastic trays. They went through without a single beep, and collected their things. Belts were looped back through holes, cell phones were jammed back into pockets, and jewelry was put back on.

“Finally, chairs! My legs are killing me. They shouldn’t make older people stand for hours on lines that never move.”

Plush purple chairs filled the room, some in the middle, others against the walls, and still others against the windows, where you could look out at the planes. People lounged about, read magazines, drank coffee, listened to music, and talked on their phones and to each other. Delays and arrivals were being announced through the intercom by a woman with a very heavy French accent.

“Why do they even bother announcing arrivals? We’re all here for departure, aren’t we?”

An old lady wandered around between the rows of chairs, a cage in her arms. As she walked past, you could hear a faint hissing noise inside. Nobody went near the old lady and her cage, fearing the worst.

“Ugh, it smells in here. Don’t people have showers at home?”

Coffee mingled with sweat in the enclosed boarding room. Because of the storm raging outside, the airline put the heaters on. Unfortunately, the air became stale, and the smell stayed.

“Was that our flight they called?”

People pushed each other out of the way to get in the front of the now-forming line, so as not to get stuck at the end again, waiting for hours. However, this time the flight attendants went through passports and tickets quicker. People boarded the plane, where they were greeted by more flight attendants and burly security guards, who selected a random person to inspect one last time. Inside the plane, people sat in their assigned seats, watched the safety video, and clicked their seatbelts tightly around them. The engines started, and the plane vibrated.

“Goodbye, New York! Paris, here I come!”

The plane zoomed off into the air, climbing higher and higher into the sky until it was surrounded by dark wet clouds. The storm continued to rage around them and they struck turbulence.

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get there in one piece.”