Just the start of our trip, and already the stories have begun.
We stood in one of the TSA lines looking back to see our traveling companions, Don and Margie. We waved. Airport lines are always a gamble. We happened to get in one that put us behind what appeared to be a large, extended family. This traveling band included small children and several adults of differing ages.
Becky and I often make up stories about strangers we see. I guessed the older people were the grandparents. I assumed this because why else would perfectly sane-looking elderly people travel with a pack of squirming, twisting, slippery young children. Children who were roaming non-stop through the machines and scanners all around them. The tykes threaded their way through the intimidating TSA officers and didn’t seem to be intimidated by them.
Obviously, these kids were not yet cowed by the power of government officials. No, for them this was an opportunity to explore something new, a real learning experience.
We deduced they were going to Disney World because one of the moms (?) kept cajoling a boy to settle down by asking, “Do you want to see Mickey? You’ve got to stay here if you want to meet Mickey.”
The child was heedless as he headed toward the body scanning machine to scrutinize this strange doorway. At one point during their security check-in process, two bags slid off the top of the pile tottering on one of the three stacked rolling luggage carts the adults had been maneuvering.
The scene of shoeless parents trying to reload their cart while simultaneously reaching out with one arm to grab and corral back the kids who were wandered behind and underneath the luggage belts was a picture of perfect chaos.
“Good travels to you,” Becky and I wished to the family as they finally wheeled out of the restricted area.
After our somewhat less chaotic turn, we caught up with Don and Margie. It was mid-afternoon. We considered the meal schedule for the next 24 hours as we traveled to our destination. Which of the next three planes would serve something more than snacks? Perhaps we should get something to eat while we waited for the initial flight.
We chose a restaurant with “outside” seating. That meant we sat outside the confines of the establishment at a table with a fence dividing our area from the concourse. A family against the fence got up to leave. The little girls carrying Disney character backpacks and wearing Princess Elsa shirts and talking excitedly about their destination told us all we needed to know of their story.
Just before our order arrived, a young man, 20-something, walked up to the waitperson bussing the table and said something to her. They continued speaking until he picked up a dinner plate and starting walking away over to a seat near a gate where he sat down and proceeded to causally eat from the plate while staring straight ahead.
He was tall and obviously very fit. He wore jeans and a T-shirt revealing strong arms adorned with tattoos. He was big and looked solid and was not someone most people would mess with.
However, the server went right over to him, stood looking up at him with her arms on her hips and after a moment came back to the area holding the dinner plate. She was not a big woman, but she wanted that plate back. We wondered what the story of the absconder of leftovers could be.
At any rate, we wished more hopeful travels to him. We also had good wishes for the tough feisty woman.
On the second leg of our flight we found ourselves in cramped seats with no legroom that even small people like us found uncomfortable over the nine hours. But we managed. We knew we were going to have good travels. We were already collecting stories.
