Airport Hell Simple Summer Trip Becomes Tour Of World’s Airports
Every one of life’s journeys begins with a departure gate of some kind, I believe. We started at an airport; we ended up at one all as planned. The only diversion was the eight airports in the middle.
I went to Greece this summer with an organization called People to People. A group of teens from Eastern Washington and North Idaho took the trip to act as ambassadors for the United States. We went to learn about other cultures, too.
In the meantime, we took a side trip to Airport Hell.
We arrived at the Spokane airport one by one in our bright purple tour shirts, with our worrying parents and neon green luggage tags. As weather held us out of New York (where we were to catch our Greece connection), we made a “15 minute stop” in Pittsburgh. A moving sidewalk, three plane changes and three hours later, we were on our way once more.
Though full of fuel, our new plane had a different problem - its crew was “all used up.” So, to get another one, our route to New York was altered by a slight detour: Detroit.
Yes, this was in the complete opposite direction. Yes, this would add to our air time and airport count. Did we world-travelers-to-be care? Yes, we did. But as our not-so-cheerful pilot informed us, law enforcement officials would be waiting outside the plane should one of us decide we weren’t all that fond of Michigan. “Shut up, sit down, we’re going to Detroit,” he said. So we went.
To amuse our tired, airline weary minds, we - as U.S. ambassadors - decided our boggled journey would be made worthwhile if only we could be presented with a pair of plastic wings. Our efforts failed, for the time being.
We got into New York in the wee hours of the morning and were greeted by the kindest, most patient of all airline officials: the night shift terminal guards. After allowing a trio of ambassadors to sing “Macho Man” over the airport intercom, we were all presented with prized trophies - a pair of plastic wings for any purple-shirted traveler who desired one.
Airports aren’t all that bad, really, once you get used to them - all you need is a couple of five-hour layovers here and there. By our eighth airport visit (which found us, finally, in Europe, but too tired to care), we had mastered the fine art of Airport Camping. A mound of carry-on luggage blocked traffic in surrounding aisles while purple-clad kids draped airport furniture like the nightmares of even the tackiest interior decorator.
Seven flights, eight airports and 29 hours later, we stumbled into Athens looking like hurricane survivors with our airline-blanket shawls and cement-filled carry-ons. We were faced with a hotel that made us long to return to our airport homes.
Athens, while being an historically significant city, didn’t boast the finest accommodations in the world.
Still, we were there - in Europe. The next morning, while fighting the unavoidable feeling that we were still on a plane, we got on a cruise boat to do some island hopping (great jet lag mediation, there).
This was our first real experience with Greek culture. Greek people on the whole are very kind, full of heart and patient - which you must be in dealing with people of any culture who don’t have the slightest idea what you’re saying.
Every so often, we were truly rewarded - with a glimpse of the most breathtaking turquoise water you’ll ever see, or a momentary break from motion sickness just in time to see dolphins frolicking alongside the boat.
Those are truly the times when you stop and think that all the hardships and inconveniences were worth it - that these are glimpses of the best life can offer, and maybe the rest wasn’t so bad after all.
The memorable parts of the trip included home-stays with Greek families, Italian lunches that lasted forever and meeting young children from other cultures. And, I’ll always treasure the friends I made on that trip.
The only real drawback about seeing so many famous places is that after a while you can take only so many ancient ruins, so many dark and morbid paintings, so many monotone tour guides.
We saw some churches dark and sad enough to convince you the entire human race was bound straight for hell, but others that could reach out and lift up your spirits and make you think maybe, just maybe, we humans did stand a chance of coming out all right in the end.
It was at those times when endless plane rides and mystery meat didn’t seem so bad. We were give tastes of such divine gifts as sunsets that make you afraid to blink, of glimpses into the past and of fleeting feelings of being a part of the entire world and heaven and everything.
And best of all, our trip home was an uneventful, two-airport hop across the Atlantic. You can’t beat that.
MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: Summer memories What did you do this summer? Climb a mountain? Learn to ride a horse? Babysit those bratty neighbor kids? Whatever it was, Our Generation wants to hear about it. Send us a short story (about 100 words or less) telling us how you spent your summer, along with a picture. We’ll choose a few and feature them in an upcoming issue of Our Generation. Send it off to Our Generation, Summer Adventures, 999 W. Riverside, Spokane, WA 99210. Be sure to include your name, age, address, phone number and the school you attend. You must be a teen. Sorry, pictures can’t be returned. Call 459-5456 if you have any questions.