Tuesday, June 05, 2007

San Diego

San Diego is a nice town from what I could see in the air and out the sliding doors. I can't tell you much more about the city, but I can tell you a few things about the airport. For example, you know those recorded messages that talk about how you shouldn't let your luggage out of your sight? Those run all night. ALL night.

In San Diego there are two messages that are identical save for being spoken in the two profoundly different dialects of "male" and "female". No Spanish translation, but if you listen best to polite women, a polite woman will tell you about how you shouldn't loose track of your luggage and parcels. Or if you prefer a more matter-of-fact man, he'll say the same thing to you in a way you can understand. Mostly the difference is that he tells you why: "In the interest of aviation security..." and give you more details than the woman did. If, having heard the man you think you liked the woman's voice better she will come back and say everything the man just said only in a different order. Twice. I feel more confident knowing that they've researched this and discovered how to effectively communicate that I should never ever not have my stuff with me.

So effective that they say it ALL NIGHT. Did I mention that part?

All this intermittently interrupting muted musical selections. Right now they are playing The Shins which is amazing seeing as the last song was a more vintage tune. To hear The Shins being played on airport muzak is to feel like somehow I'm getting my way and the world is becoming somehow more progressive. Until the Shins are interrupted by "Luggage and Parcels..." followed now by a new message from the Transportation Security Administration. No shortage of irony that the background music for this rigid machine of commerce and travel is occasionally an indie label sensation.

It's 6:45 a.m. in Michigan which means any more sleep is a non-option until I get on Hawaii time. I'm not going to bother getting on San Diego time because that would mean it's 3:45 and I'd feel stupid for not sleeping.

But this isn't about the sleep I'm not getting. It's about the sleeping I've done. I can now say that I've slept in an airport with nothing but my carry-on and my sports coat. I joined a half-dozen or so equally weary travelers on benches, seats and floors; trying to stay sane is the middle of a journey with a lay-over that's just a bit too short to sleep anywhere else. If being liminal were a contest, I think I'm winning. I almost dare Josh or Justin to one-up this.

And it's about something else too. When I got off a plane I had a decision to make about what I was going to do for the next eight-ish hours. Part of me really wanted to splurge and get a hotel, but that means splurging and getting a cab too. All of that is completely outside of my tight budget and I'd get very little sleep anyway because at 6:00 a.m. San Diego time I have to be right back here. But when I got off the last plane a wonderful, older, African-American man graciously told me that if I wanted to stay in the Airport, the food court was a good place. The seats are soft and you have the tables (That's all he said about the tables. I still don't know why he mentioned that.). He was warm and reminded me of my college sculpture professor.

I had to make that decision of what level of comfort I'd choose and whether it was acceptable for me to do this. Maybe even a little of what others would think of me. It's the first decision of many more like it. Anxiety has led me to think of a lot of things that could go wrong with this move. Apparently the bottom could fall out for me completely. I suspect my anxieties have a point that I could end up with no job and everything gone, nothing but luggage, a motorcycle and clothes on my back. Maybe not even luggage or a motorcycle.

So the question is, if all this did happen; if everything went as completely wrong as it possibly could; if for some reason God didn't provide what I'm hoping for in faith...

How bad would that really be?

"All checked and carry-on luggage is subject to search"

Every time I go around the corner I feel a need to lift and carry twenty pounds of baggage. It's interesting to me and a little troubling to think what levels of comfort I've begun to consider mandatory and what things I decided I couldn't get rid of to come on this trip. I'm glad that I have this laptop, but when I re-check-in to the San Diego airport I'll question even that.

Right now having the bottom fall out is a lot easier to accept, maybe even enjoy.

And I think that's what sleeping in the airport is all about. It's a question of whether I really want to have more stuff to carry arround. It's new perspective on what does and doesn't matter (I think I've been through fifty such new perspectives). And it's a story so a few days or weeks or months from now when something isn't going my way I can remember how God still gave me a place to sleep and for a few hours they left the lights off and let me alone. When I remember how things used to be for me and how luxurious a life I lived in Kalamazoo, I can also remember how He protects me and how I'm not the only one doing this.

"Security is everyone's responsibility"

But what's security? On the surface the answer to that is having all your belongings in a safe place, but if you think about it, all they really want here is that no one has to worry they will be part of a tragedy.

I think I hear a Cuban swing version of Coldplay's "Clocks". Who's idea was that?

posted by Scott # 9:29 PM

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