Coming home

I'll briefly acknowledge the fact that I have been really slacking in blog posts for the last 2 weeks. Sorry to all my many fans. I'll be good.

My wife has been out of town for a few days and tonight I went to the airport to pick her up. I really love airports, so when I go, I usually try to get there early and just soak in the experience. I could actually write post after post about airports, and maybe that can be sort of a fall back for when I'm feeling tapped out of topics.

Anyway, one of my favorite things to do at airports, ours in particular, is to watch people exit the secured area and come up that long escalator to the baggage claim area. That's where you'll see the fat old men holding up signs with things like "Mr. Davison" or "RPI Printing". You'll see kids straining to see gramma and grampa or mum and dad. You'll see Joe husband returning from his business trip, sometimes with family there to greet him, sometimes not. These days you might have a family awaiting the return of one of their sons in uniform returning from military service in Iraq. Kids coming back from chaperoned school trips. And the common business guy flying from one strange town to another,never sure where he is or why he is.

What I like in all of those scenarios is the common element amongst really all of these folks. Everyone always looks happy. Except for the poor business bastard. Whether they're coming home from holiday, business or war, they always seem happy to arrive where they are. I'm guessing it's not so much for the place, but for the people waiting for them at the top of the escalator.