Of Airports, Jews, and airplane neighbors...

August 22, 2006
I just stood in a line at the Lufthansa gate for twenty-five minutes to find out if I could carry the two bags I have with me. One, my laptop case, I was not concerned about, but the other, my guitar, a small backpacker model, produced some concern. For alleged security reasons carry-on items were being strictly limited, but before I reached the culmination of my wait, it was announced that all that was desired was accomplished, and I walked away to find a seat, both bags in hand.

I had noticed them before the ‘line episode’, but during my wait I was slightly entertained by a Jewish family managing their three strapping Hebrew sons. The eldest appeared to be around five, the youngest was learning to walk (or stand rather, using his stroller as support), and the third son fit somewhere in the middle. In my heart I felt an affinity for them and, in all honest, a sense of honor to be near them – a family of the chosen people of God. Although the parents were rather plumply substantial, I was struck by their attractiveness. It would not be untrue to say that the woman was beautiful, possessing a beauty that is inherent to peoples of the Mediterranean – darker skin, sharply defined eyes, noble nose, proud mouth, and a nature described as both coy and gregarious. The man was less glamorous but obviously capable of producing sons of notable strength, both in appearance and personality. It was a pleasure to watch their interactions, hearing their language flow effortlessly from their lips, seeing their love for their sons, and then noticing the unspoken communication via the meaningful glances of a man and a woman who are intimately acquainted with each other.

Later – enroute at 37,000 feet somewhere over England
There remains less than an hour before I reach Frankfurt. We have flown east through the night searching, as it were, for an early sunrise and have found it, ahead of schedule as planned. The sitting position does not work well for me when it comes to sleep, so I have spent the last seven hours conversing with my neighbors, surfing the web and writing emails, eating, and just sitting still to allow time to march on as it wills.

My neighbors provide some interest, and they are: Dan, sitting in front of me, Steve, to my front right, and John, two seats to my right. There would be more, but the ticketing agents failed in their advertising and many seats remain cold. Of the four of us there is only one traveling for ‘pleasure’, but combined we represent an eclectic array of destinations. Greece, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, and Sudan. Dan and Steve, Kazakhstan and Ukraine, are going on missions trips, Dan for a year, Steve for three weeks. Dan, a conservative looking twenty-two year old Lutheran sporting a leather strap necklace with a Christian fish pendant, has never been overseas, but appears to have remedied that by diving in headfirst [with such a long commitment]. He seems scared and unsure of himself, probably using some of these tedious hours to question what it is that he is doing. Steve, a nice and pleasant person, fancies himself a dashing, part-time overseas missionary, clocking a couple of weeks every couple of years. During the day, he teaches Sunday school and does something in the financial world. Before takeoff and prior to cruising altitude we heard his life story, and for a while afterwards he ‘dazzled’, as he may have thought, us with stories of Jabez praying and ‘no way that could be coincidence.’ John retreated into the world of Bose Headphone induced silence, and I confess for a while I envied him. Later on he and I struck up some words, querying each other of the other’s business and discussing world politics. In the course of things I presented my world view and gathered that his was somewhat emotion-based and irritated towards US foreign policies. He’s a fan of President Carter and is something of a wannabe humanitarian. I don’t begrudge him that, though.

Later – Frankfurt
I am very weary now. Due to the raised security cautions for flights bound for the states there are security lines almost a quarter of a mile long. Then, due to my error, I stood in on for half an hour before I realized my mistake. Then I found my gate and waited for another twenty or thirty minutes at the check-in counter just to ask a simple question. That complete I searched for a place to sit down and came up only with the marble floor. My body and mind are exhausted and I have difficulty keeping time sorted out in my mind.