This past weekend we did some traveling. The kind that involves the airport. San Antonio Airport is undergoing a parking structure renovation that should be complete in oh, about five years. Yes, I did say five years. 

After driving around and finally finding a parking spot, we made our way to the shuttle that goes from said parking structure to the terminal. We were there in plenty of time, but when we walked in there was a line full of what appeared to be first time travelers, and to top it off we did not – I repeat, we did not have TSA Pre Check. I live and die by TSA PreCheck. I’d much rather leave my shoes, jacket, and belt on and keep my laptop in my bag. Do you ever put your stuff on the conveyor and hope you get through the whole x-Ray thing before anyone can steal everything? I do! And there’s always, always, always someone that doesn’t read the signs, and doesn’t listen to the TSA agent and tries to walk through with their pockets, loaded down with cell phones, change, and anything else that might be mistaken for a weapon. When they finally get through, they proceed to stand right in front of the conveyor and put their shoes on and get dressed right where everything is coming through (sigh).

And as long as I’m on the subject, I really thing the TSA should have disposable booties available to walk through so that when I don’t have Pre Check, I don’t have to walk through barefoot. Gross! 

While we were waiting to board the plane, I looked around at the number of people carrying on their suitcases. I have no patience for inefficiencies, and it’s always been my opinion that the airlines should check bags for free and charge for carry on. Have you ever seen some of the stuff people try and carry on? And, why don’t they load the plane from the rear? It would shorten the time it takes to load passengers and improve on time departures, right? But they don’t. Well, what do I know? 

At any rate, once we settled in, there was a young boy, about 9 or 10 just standing in our row. JD and I looked at each with one of those “what the heck..” Looks. I could see he was traveling with a man who appeared to be in his early 40’s and another young boy around 13 or so who was most likely his brother. Eventually, the the both found their seats and we were off to Baltimore. 

Once we arrived and had gone down to baggage claim, I noticed that there were actually 3 brothers traveling with this man. It looked like they all had on brand new shoes and clothes, and each had one small duffle bag. The man was carrying three large envelopes. Now my curiosity was in high gear. What was the story here? He was clearly not their dad, and what was in those envelopes. Were they being dropped off? Adopted? 

As luck would have it, the story began to unfold right in front of me. In a few minutes, two young women appeared, with one recording everything that was happening. When she appeared, all three boys simultaneously burst into tears and they all hugged. She signed some papers, took custody of the boys and the three envelopes, and the man left. I’m guessing she was maybe their aunt or even an older sister, as she wasn’t nearly as emotional as they were. And surely if she had been their mother she would have been overwhelmed with tears. At any rate, I couldn’t help but smile and be happy for these boys, clearly they were happy to be reunited with this person, whoever she was.

Fast forward three days and we are back at the airport to head home. We were on the rental car shuttle bus at a stop light looking forward to getting home. The sound of screeching tires got my attention and then a woman screaming. I looked up and saw that a man had been hit by a car. My stomach instantly tensed and although he was down, he appeared to be alright, but I will never be able to get that image out of my mind. I hope he’s okay and recovering today.

Airports are truly interesting places. Drama, intrigue, all kinds of people, lots of stories, everyone either going somewhere, going home, or those that work there and wish they were anywhere but the airport. For most of us, it’s just a part of the journey.