COLUMN: Watch people in airports …for me

Heather Fredrickson

There’s a lot to be learned about people by sitting at an airport for a couple of hours. I honestly think society as a whole is represented in this microcosm. Anyone who spent countless hours in airports this past holiday break – and will spend many more in March for Spring Break – undoubtedly knows what I’m talking about.

People are funny.

No, really. They are. Have you ever noticed how people react to those around them based on what kind or how much luggage they have or whether or not they’re riding in those nifty little carts or traveling in pods?

Believe me. We respond quite differently. At least I do.

I spent time in four different airports in the last two months and, while I don’t consider myself an expert by any means, I feel somewhat qualified to write on the subject of people-in-airports watching.

I have a friend whose sole mission in life used to be driving one of those carts around the airport. She’d beep the little horn whenever she came upon a straggler in the hall and bulldoze those who didn’t move just to get her charges to their gate on time. What a life!

But I look on those little carts in a different way. Zigzagging their way across the airport, dodging the innocent who don’t know that some mysterious beeping or barely audible “Excuse me” behind them means their toes are about to get squished are more hassle than help. Besides, I haven’t been allowed on one of those deals. And I want to be. How cool to the beeper instead of the beeped. So, I’m jealous. There you have it in black and white: I hate those carts.

And why is it most people who travel in packs are always either a) loud, b) obnoxious, c) families, d) young or e) in my way? Is there a higher force at work here? Honest, I don’t need that added stress of worming through the hall-wide string that includes Grandma, Grandpa, little Leslie, Katie, Johnny, Brittney, Mom, Dad, Uncle Mike, Aunt Rachel, cousin Peter and friend-of-the-family Russ and his girlfriend, Cassie, as I try to haul myself from gate A13 to gate E10 in five minutes flat. Bunch up, people. Try single file. It won’t kill you.

Do you know what else I’ve noticed? Something as innocuous as luggage can be a catalyst for separating the masses into classes. Strange, but true.

I still use the two bags my grandparents gave me for Christmas when I was in ninth or 10th grade. So they’re at least 10 or 11 years old. And yet they serve their purpose just fine. But I often find myself looking at other bags and determining whether or not the person attached will be sitting in my row or on the other side of the curtain.

Samsonite – other side of the curtain.

Sears – my row.

Isn’t that ridiculous and sadly true at the same time? If anyone reading this column has Sears luggage and sits in first class, let me know. I’d like to shake your hand. And vice versa for the Samsonite.

Finally, there are the people carrying the obviously too-large suitcases, furtively glancing around at other passengers and at ticket agents. They know what they’re in for and they know what they’re about to do to the rest of us ready to get on a plane with them.

Heads will be whacked, feet will be stepped on and we will sit and wait in wonder about what’s so important in that guy’s bag that he couldn’t check it at the counter with everyone else’s luggage. Do you know they hold up the plane so they can find a spot for those bags? Gotta find a place for it.

Not that I mind that, necessarily. Sometimes it takes me a minute or two to find a spot to stuff my coat. But it’s these gigantic closet-on-wheels deals that irritate me. Do these people not see the little “Size-Wise” bins strewn throughout the airport? Why do they suppose they’re there? Beautiful they’re not; functional they ought to be. And they save my head from a whack or two.

Next time you’re at the airport, check out the people. See if my ramblings don’t hit home.

And please, please, please, whatever you do, please use the Size-Wise cradles to check out your bags and let the plane lift off on time for once.

Thank you.

Heather Fredrickson is a senior majoring in journalism. E-mail comments to her at slr4h@cc.usu.edu.