Monday, June 05, 2006

Adventures at the Aerodrome


This past weekend my cousin flew into town and arrived at National Aiport. Having lived here for over 28 years, I will always and forever more refer to National Airport as National, never Reagan. It has nothing to do with the man himself, it's just a Washingtonian thing. So anyways, my cousin's flight was due to arrive at 10:15 Saturday night. He had called during his layover in Chicago to tell me that he was leaving Chicago late due to fog and to delay my departure accordingly. I checked the flight times online and the boards constantly said that the flight was to arrive as scheduled . So, my brother and I hopped in the car and headed off for DC, timing ourselves to arrive at about the time my cousin would have been exiting the gate and arriving at the baggage claim.

He was arriving at Terminal A so I decided to hit the Terminal A hourly parking, only to find that there is no hourly parking across from Terminal A. So we parked over in Terminal B. It's not a long walk but it is a bit away from where we needed to be. We entered the airport which was understandably quiet at that time of the night and found that besides passengers, folks there to pick up people, the cleaning staff and security, there was virtually no one else there. No one official looking anyways. So we checked the arrivals board again and found that the flight was still listed as being on time. Checking the watches and clocks we found that the arrival time had come and gone and that passengers were nowhere to be seen. So we waited and waited.

After a bit we realized we weren't directly outside where his gate would be so we made the hike, and I do mean hike, from Terminal B to Terminal A. It was like being caught in a time warp as we made that journey. We started out in the modern, canopied Terminal B which has every modern convenience. As we moved farther along, we entered what my brother called the 80's era replete with neon lighting and stainless steel moldings. Then we jumped back to the 50's with the waiting area that was probably built at the time the airport was originally built. It was like those scenes in the movie "Airport". We continued on, going through the 60's and 70's before arriving at the 80's era Terminal A. As we arrived we checked the boards again. Still no sign of the flight. And now, the flight was not listed at all.

Looking down the hall to the gates, with only a sleepy guard keeping watch, we could find no one to tell us what the deal was with the flight. Finally, an hour after his scheduled arrival time, my cousin came out to find a closed security gate. The sleepy guard had gotten up a few minutes before and had to go to the restroom so he went ahead and closed the gate and then opened it upon his return. A bit strange perhaps but at least the gates were safe. We went over to the baggage claim belt only to stare at it laying dormant for about 10 minutes. Finally my cousin said that it would at least be reassuring to see the belt move even if it is empty. In response to his joke, the belt did start to move and for a few minutes, nothing came out. We joked that perhaps there were grandmothers off-loading the bags. Suddenly, as if someone had cut the femoral artery of baggage, bags spewed out onto the belt. We collected my cousin's bag in due time and then made the long journey back to the future of Terminal B.

We paid about $6 for the time we spent in the airport. A bit steep perhaps but then again, I guess they have to count for inflation from all the eras we covered in our journey from one Terminal to the other. We left the sleepy guard to his gate and the other waiting passengers and family to their waiting in purgatory and came home none the worse for wear but enlightened for having made the journey from Ronald Reagan National Airport to National Aerodrome and back again.

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