The woman in front of me is coming undone. Wrestling a huge suitcase and a tiny child she is getting tied up in the black stretchy divider keeping the mass of people in orderly lines. Muttering to herself, she is close to tears and I hear a voice cut through the din around us: “Ma’am, do you need some help?” It seems that everyone who is awake in Boston at this predawn hour is right here in the JetBlue security line at Logan. What are they doing here? Through the crowd, an agent in blue has spotted her. “You look like you are having some trouble there, ma’am.”
Pulling, tripping, dragging, desperate to get out, the woman says, “I left my ID at home. I have to go!” With the conviction of one who knows she can actually help, the JetBlue agent, or perhaps I should say, angel, calls out to her again. Whipping her way through the dividers, she keeps asking her questions, gets her to look at her, to take 10 breaths, to believe her when she says she can work it out.
As I inch my way through the line I am able to watch their progress. By the time I reach security I see the woman joking, laughing and shaking the hand of the JetBlue angel who goes off to save someone else’s day. “Who was that masked woman?” I feel like asking. Wow: making a difference before the sun is even up.
Then I realize: she isn’t the only one. JetBlue must have some special screening and training procedures in place. Everyone here is helpful, and it is contagious. As I watch the sunrise through the picture windows of the airport I have an eerie sensation, like Alice must have had when she went down the rabbit hole. Here I am in this massive crowd and no one is grumbling. Having chosen the slowest security line, the one I am in, the young woman behind me starts to panic because her flight is already boarding. The blank faces around us suddenly come alive and everyone is moving her forward, carrying her bins full of shoes and coats to the front of the line.
Now that I think I of it, even the cab driver at 5 am in this 10 degree weather was uncommonly good company, and the checkin agent waived the fee on my overweight bag.
What is going on here? I only slept one hour last night. Perhaps I am hallucinating. Seriously, I am starting to wonder. On a completely full flight the seat next to me is inexplicably empty so I have a little extra room. I am going to sleep now, and when I wake up I expect the world to be back to normal. Ah yes, there is a screaming baby now: that’s more like it.
Yes. Things do happen this way sometimes. It is wonderful when they occur and wonderful when someone shares the experience. If we shared these things more often would they happen more often? Worth a try . . . Thanks, Ellen.