Joe and Michelle arrive from London

Yesterday at about 2:00pm eastern standard time my sister Michelle and her husband Joe returned from England to Cincinnati via the daily Delta flight. Being as I work at the airport, it is duly assumed by all family members that I am the designated “meet my flight” person, the envy of my lineage having the all potent parking pass that allows waiting without constant Timex reference moments due to ever aging parking ticket stub racking up fees quicker than a DVD accidentally left on the coffee table by the front door.

Having an airport badge affords me the opportunity to wait in the secure area for the international passengers to exit the immigration and customs area rather than beyond the TSA checkpoints with the rest of humanity. It is only a small area with four blue vinyl generic airport seats wedged tightly between an elevator and a set of escalators. I took my place at the seat closed to the international screening stations (yes, when you enter the USA from another country you must be re-screened to enter the secure area of the airport.) I saw a large group of elegantly groomed crew members wearing nicely fitted dark blue uniforms and more stripes and insignias then a well seasoned NASA team, so I knew that the Air France flight had coming in first today, which meant it would be at least twenty minutes before Joe and Michelle would make their grand appearance. On the other side of the elevator was a bank of TV monitors listing all the flights for the next couple of hours departing the airport. This bank is really the place to concentrate on when international passengers are arriving and looking for their connecting flights. Keep in mind they have probably been sitting on an aircraft for over nine hours and are usually disoriented, tired, and in many cases non-English speaking.

As I sit waiting the first bank of passengers endeavor to interpret the flight information as it is posted. Most of my entertainment value is supplied by the married couples, as it is a universal trait of mankind that after a long flight married couples (or even just couples in general) will debate which gate or direction they should go.

Occasionally single males will come through the exit gate with a backpack or overnight bag, take a swift knowing look at the flight board, and hastily pace directly toward the correct part of the concourse after briefly reviewing the overhead signs for directions. “Take that Rosanne Barr! “ they seem to be saying with their swagger. Well, they would say that if they know who Rosanne Barr actually was.

Here comes Joe and Michelle… end of gab….