Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Travel Tale Tuesday: Passing Through Airports at 10,000 Miles High

This is going to be a travel blog. This is going to be a blog about traveling. This is going to be a blog about women traveling. This is going to be a blog about women traveling solo. This is a blog about a solo woman traveling through.

This is the first of a weekly series I call TRAVEL TUESDAYS. All about where I'm traveling, where I want to travel too, tips, tricks, stories, photography, articles, books, and whatever else seems fit.

So without further ado coming to you from 10,000 ft above sea level welcome to Tuesday's Travel.

I'm currently sitting window seat on Southwest Airlines departing from American's largest airport, the Denver Colorado Airport. I was in what I call the 'northwest wing' of the Denver Airport. I call it the northwest wing because it is really obvious that everyone is from, going to, or departing from somewhere in the northwest. It isn't my first rodeo in this wing of the biggest airport in American. The first time I ever passed through this airport I was on my way home from spending six months living, studying, and traveling through India, by myself. I remember coming 'across the American border' from the international to domestic terminals. The escalator rising under the hand painted mural of Native Americans pointing off into the horizon, out to a bald eagle, to the waving banner exclaiming WELCOME TO AMERICA.
As you merge into the northwest wing the people start to look more alike (to be honest; more plain), 'simple folk,' or if we're just being honest, white. Especially coming from anywhere outside of the European or American sphere (AKA ASIA, SOUTHEAST ASIA, AFRICA, SOUTH AMERICA aka most of the physical globe space) it's quite noticeable and to me, was quite unsettling. Not only does everybody look like they came from the same tree you quickly realize how people in the northwest wing - and more so just the western world - need, prefer, and demand 'order,' or whatever their idea of that word is to them. Single filed lines with the rules and directions posted high above their heads incase they get lost in the box their placed while waiting for their next flight.

I noticed that all the first time I passed through the Denver airport. This time - passing through on my way to Missouri for my cousins Army basic training graduation - I did not feel the least bit bad about making such harsh and critical assumptions about the northwest wing.
I was standing no less than a few feet in front of my 'designated boarding section' when a woman asked me what my number was. I told her and showed her my number.
"Ehhhheeeemmmm, ugh ugh, that's behind this pillar. You have to go stand behiiiind the pillar with your number on it. You're standing where I'm suppose to stand." Despite the fact there was about 10 other people around us... "You need to go to your section. You can't cut in line."

Here's the thing... I told her to get over it and there are bigger problems in the world, I was one person, and we all were guaranteed a seat. Well... she got all the other housewives to chirp and chime until I walked two feet back just to hear the sound of them not talking.

Moral of the story: Break the rules just to annoy the sticklers.

Also just for my own reasons I would like to point out a great contradiction for a society that insists on following rules. Escalators and moving sidewalks in airports are meant for faster transportation between terminals and gates. Not to stand on because you're too tired to walk after sitting on your flight. Just saying.

Goodnight, goodbye, and here's to having a beer at 10,000 miles high.

© All writing and photos are original content unless otherwise credited & cited. All content is not to be copied without permission of the author.

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