My father died in January 2017. His memorial was in February and I traveled from LA there with my brother in Phoenix, but on the return, I was alone.
At the airport for the return, I lost it when the airport baggage inspector wanted to examine my carry-on for drugs after I declared my father’s ashes were in there. I looked up the policy and I was in my rights to not have it taken apart and the sealed box opened up. I lost it. I told her my father had done more for that state and for that airport than she ever will, that he trained to save lives and improved emergency services in that state and at that airport, that the CAP building down the road was renovated to be a better command center for looking for downed planes and missing people, to respond to natural disaster and out of respect his ashes should not be handled like contraband. I had declared what the box was and that was to be good enough.
She persisted. Opened it. Lifted the lid with one finger, peeked inside very briefly and zipped it back up. And that was that.
It was early at Yeager Airport. Not many people were there and the waiting room for the flight to Charlotte to make the LA plane was empty. My scene with the baggage inspector left me drained. I went into the ladies. It was empty. And everything hit me again- the grief overwhelmed me and I broke down finally in full grief rather than the begrudged pieces of it I had let loose with my family.
A woman walked in. Most people would have left or did their business and left without a word, but this woman immediately came to me and just held me, to give me comfort. She didn’t ask why I was crying so hard. She just held me, giving me wordless comfort for a moment. I apologized, told her that Dad had died and it just overcame me. She said there was no need to apologize. She was glad she was there to give comfort.
It was a moment of agape, a transcendence in normal human interaction, and one after the thoughtlessness of the baggage inspector I needed to remind me that the world had caring people in it. During the flight, I had to give my carry-on to the steward because carry-on was full. I told him that the ashes of Dad were in it and he promised to take care of it himself. The flight back was full of moments like that.
I was without the love of my family on that journey, but the love of strangers I had along the way reminded me that we are all family.
I collapsed onto a bench and heaved a sigh.
I had said goodbye to my family, went through security, and was now just comprehending that I was flying to the bottom of the world to study abroad for the next six months in a country where I did not know a single soul.
Heck, I didn’t even know my boarding gate.
Realizing that might be an issue, I pored over my boarding pass and scrutinized the screens of flight details. Nada.
I thought my best course of action would be to find the customer service desk for my airline. I wandered past Starbucks and magazine stands and overpriced souvenirs and countless gates of weary travelers. My tired feet took a pause on an escalator up before turning right and trudging again, straight into my savior.
A Qantas counter.
I went up to explain my predicament, and the helpful agent explained that I was several hours early to my flight so there was no boarding information available yet. Furthermore, this was not the customer service desk but in fact the Qantas lounge for exclusive travelers.
I thanked the man and turned to leave for some exciting metal bench options I had seen downstairs. As I was heading out the doors, he called out unexpectedly.
“Wait!”
He gestured for me to come back.
“Right this way.”
I was ushered into the luxurious lounge. He pointed out the open bar and showers and other amenities as I tried to take it all in. When I sank into the plush couch with drink in hand, waiters came by to offer tasty tapas and check if I needed anything.
For the first time that day, I finally felt like I was going to be okay.
complain that my snoring was keeping him awake at night. He described it as the sound of a woodchuck being thrown into a wood chipper. Since he is fond of telling tall tales and exaggeration, I didn’t take this too seriously. We were on a long flight with a 4 hour layover. So we wound up in an airport lounge and since I’m always nervous the night before a trip, I fell asleep. I suddenly woke up from deep unconsciousness, raised my head, and every person in the lounge was staring at me. “Was I snoring?”, I asked. Thirty people nodded in unison. My husband is laughing hysterically next to me.
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Wow, over 3 K up votes. This is far and away my most popular answer. Just proves I was right in thinking this was a pretty funny story. By the way, thanks for all the concerned comments. Having finally found a sleep center that would accept my insurance (don’t get me started on how crap US healthcare is) I’ll be being checked out in December.
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Update -Dec.5th. Three weeks ago, 2 months after making the appointment, the sleep center where I was to get the sleep study that I need to qualify to get a C-Pap machine called me up to tell me they don’t take my insurance. After playing phone tag for three weeks with the sleep specialist’s nurse, she informed me that none of the clinics the Doctor is associated with will take my insurance (!) so I will need to find another specialist if I can’t pay for the whole cost of the study myself. So after the expense of my time, gas money, and payment to the specialist, not to mention untold aggravation, I’m back to where I was in June. There is a clinic 20 minutes from my home that does this work, but I’ve been driving hours away to have insurance coverage.
Now I need to find a Dr who will probably be 2 or more hours drive away, or maybe I’ll need to go out of State!
Anybody who honestly believes that American healthcare is the best in the world, is either rich, unusually healthy, very young, still living in the 60’s, ignorant, or delusional and uncaring of the problems of others. I’ve lived in Canada, the UK and Sweden and I never had such aggravation. I went to a local Dr and whatever tests or referrals she made were never canceled or unexpectedly billed to me. I NEVER waited six months and wound up with nothing but bills, aggravation, depression and despair.
This election year, I am a single issue voter, and that issue is Single Payer Healthcare. Unless you are really rich, immortal, have no friends or relatives and own a magical talisman against malice and major accidents, you should do the same.