Winged chariots that soar across the tops of the fluffy clouds. True time machines that shave zeroes off of travel hours, turning them into minutes. “Airplanes are the true miracle of our time,” Gray Drucker thought as he removed his shoes. The middle-aged man did a mental checklist in his mind while he stood in security. While most chose to grumble and complain about the inconvenience of flying, he could easily rattle off at least 25 reasons why he was glad he here today. Mainly, he was just thankful he wasn’t driving. He fumbled for his boarding pass.
Gray took his belt off and tucked it in his bag. Then he pulled his laptop out of the case along with his toiletries. Thanks to two nut jobs — one with a bomb in his pants and and the other in his shoes — passengers now had to practically strip down bare-ass naked to get on the plane. But it was just what it was. Complaining about it wouldn’t make the line move faster. He looked at the man feeding people trays to put their stuff in. Gray never grumbled about the TSA. They had to work in a cloud of foot odor all day.
BEEEP. The person in front of him had set off some alarm. The large man in the blue uniform drug him over to the side and wanded him. Gray took a deep breath and repeated, “I will catch my flight, I will catch my flight.”
He stood there, with his arms up as some random person in some room saw him naked. Just once he wanted to bust into the Heisman pose. But airport jail didn’t appeal to him.
Gray Drucker had once prayed for patience. God gave him the opportunity to learn it by becoming a frequent flyer.
Airports really were miraculous little cities. They had police, infrastructure, workers, leaders, shopping and lots and lots of people. Gary watched their faces as he emerged from security. There was the older man in the Hawaiian shirt and the black socks. An obvious athlete in sweat pants. A young girl with a baby strapped to her front zipped past him with rolling carry on luggage. A soldier passed, looking no more than 13. All traveling to different parts of the world. Each seeking a new adventure. And leaving all from this one spot. It was the one time that their lives would intersect. Yet they were oblivious to it. Random chance was arriving and departing every day at the airport.
Gray had been at the airport’s grand opening in 1980. He had been a kid and he remembered the politician calling it the “8th wonder of the world.” Now that he wasn’t a kid anymore, he’s have to agree with the now-deceased mayor who who the airport was half named for.
He looked up at the giant bank of TV’s showing the arrivals and departures. DL541 was delayed. He was almost relieved, knowing that he wouldn’t have to rush to his gate in Concourse C. Gray got on train and went to Concourse B. He grabbed a burger at the top of the escalator and sat at the tables overlooking the sea of parked Delta jets.
The setting sun peaked over the looming thunderheads. Severe storms were marching in from Alabama. Gray hoped he could get on his plane and into the air before the airport got shut down. He took another bite of his burger and released his worry. That was out of his control. All he was responsible for was showing up to the gate on time. The day he had realized that was the day that traveling stopped being something that caused anxiety.
Gray just smiled and finished his dinner. He began his usual habit of searching for faces in the crowd. He always ran into someone he knew in the Atlanta airport. He had seen an old girlfriend, a friend from college, his sister (who was coming back from China.) Today, he didn’t see anyone he knew. But there were familiar-looking two men in older clothes. They sat at a table next to the window and were looking around in awe. Gray picked up his tray and moved a little closer to them. They were pale and just stared out the giant planes as they did their ballet on the tarmac.
Gray got a refill on his drink and sat back down at a table near the two men. Like the announcement said, “If you see anything suspicious…” Something seemed different about these passengers. The younger of the two men began to talk.
“Look at the giant steel birds leap off the ground.”
“I know. They soar into the sky with a minimum of ease. And so quickly. I don’t even see a propeller!” said the older one.
“Our flyer would have never done this. These flyers don’t even need rails. And they hold so many people. It’s a miracle.”
Gray pulled out his phone and Googled “Orville and Wilbur Wright.” He then looked at his phone and then back at the two men.
But when he looked back at the table, they were gone.
Gray rubbed his eyes, and picked up his bag. He must have been tired — it had been a long day already. He didn’t just see… He picked up his bag and headed to his gate.
The frequent flyer had another flight to catch. No, a miracle to catch. All thanks to the two bicycle mechanics from Ohio.