By Tom Dodge, KERA Commentary
http://stream.publicbroadcasting.net/production/mp3/kera/local-kera-626598.mp3
Dallas, TX –
My fear of airports and airplanes results, I believe, from the day I helped my Uncle Porter brand cows at his ranch near Crowley. The cows were herded into a pen or corral, then forced into a chute and driven single file until they came to the end. When one stopped and tried to turn around and go back, maybe got stuck, a man with a sharp stick, a cowpoke, poked the poor devil until it moved on. My job was to operate the mechanism at the end that clamped down on their neck and held them fast while somebody jabbed them with a red hot poker. I told Uncle Porter that I wasn't suited for that kind of work and so left cowboying for good.
But the fear and pain in the cows' eyes left an indelible brand on my brain. It returns with a fury every time I have to go in the airport. I had to do that the other day.
Dallas-Fort Worth Airport is the second largest in the U.S. It covers 29.8 miles and 18,000 acres, larger than the island of Manhattan. It occupies the cities of Euless, Grapevine, Irving, and Coppell. Last year over 60 million people were herded through it and into long tubes with wings and transported out of there.
Dropping my wife, her sister, and their mother off was easy but picking them up five days later was a branding experience. I arrived on time but the plane didn't. It was diverted to Shreveport for fuel. This caused them to lose their chute. I mean gate. DFW has 174 branding gates. I mean boarding gates. I felt like I went to all of them.
Flight 1763 was originally scheduled to arrive at terminal A, gate 14. It would now arrive at terminal B, gate 4, I was told. This meant driving again, from Euless to Coppell, I think.
At Terminal B I learned that it would not be arriving there, as terminal B was American Eagle only and Flight 1763 was jet-propelled. It would, rather, be arriving at A-16. So I drove back to Euless and waited. To be sure, I asked again and was told the place to be was actually at baggage pickup C-2 Finally, I said. The only place to sit and wait faced a row of televisions, all tuned to a loud show about foolish animal tricks. The crowd waiting for their bags to arrive on a rotating mechanism squealed with glee as the animals were forced to perform cruel routines.
I grew antsy after a while and checked again. This time I learned that the elusive flight would definitely arrive at C-21, 19 gates away, in Irving, I think. Too far for my mother-in-law, 85 years old and propelled by two fake hips, to walk. So I moved the car closer. At C-21 I waited until I got a call from Brenda at ten till five. "We're finally here," she said. "At C-25."
I may have cursed, I don't remember. But I do remember that when I got to C-25, there was no one there. After a while she called again. "Where are you?" she said.
"I'm at C-25, as I said I would be," I said.. "Where are you?"
"We're outside looking for you."
"Outside? Outside? Where outside?"
"We got tired waiting for you."
"Don't move! No matter what, don't move!"
It was not a warm reception. We were all mad at each other. Finally, in the car, when temperatures abated, I asked why the long face. I thought I was the one who should be peeved. "It wasn't just the diversion to Shreveport," Brenda said. "They had to frisk mother at Richmond. Her hips set off the alarm."
Tom Dodge is a writer from Midlothian.
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