There's nothing that's so exciting and simultaneously demoralizing as sitting at the airport waiting for a plane. The anticipation of a long journey is palpable, but so is the exhaustion inherent in any traveling. Sometimes, when travelling alone, I like to look around me and imagine the stories of the people walking by, or sitting in the black pleather chairs. Some of them seem to be looking back at me, wondering what I'm thinking - and it's that moment of anti-solipsism before I duck my head in slight embarrassment that really helps connect me to others around me.
My flight yesterday took me to Nome, AK, by way of St. Louis, Seattle, and Anchorage. When checking in with the attendant, she asked what had happened "on the outbound leg" - confused, I said, "this IS the outbound leg" - and with a look of pity in her eyes, she said, "Oh... one way? To Nome?" as though there were no hope for my immortal soul in the frozen north. What is it about the cold that drives most people crazy, their eyes and nostrils flaring in tandem as though to suck one last breath and sight before the mere mention of cold weather can bring about its reality?
Being from Michigan, I am used to the cold. Well... perhaps, thrive on it is a better word-choice. While I was younger, I lived in Jakarta, Indonesia - a hot place, in the tropics, where it rarely got below 72 degrees. While that may be someone's idea of paradise, I missed the cold terribly. I missed snow, the way that the trees shed their leaves and iced over, even the crisp, cool air that hits the lungs like a cup of coffee hits the brain.
Now, though - I'm heading to a land that freezes over in September, where the very sea - that salty monster of old - freezes in defiant submission to the North Winds. That crisp, cool air that I love so much - will I still love it when it is around not just for my birth month, but for six months of the year?
These thoughts were running through my head in the airport before flying, and while I was snoozing in Anchorage. Imagine my surprise when, in the Anchorage airport, I was asked politely to move by some airport workers who were going to irradiate the area.
My flight yesterday took me to Nome, AK, by way of St. Louis, Seattle, and Anchorage. When checking in with the attendant, she asked what had happened "on the outbound leg" - confused, I said, "this IS the outbound leg" - and with a look of pity in her eyes, she said, "Oh... one way? To Nome?" as though there were no hope for my immortal soul in the frozen north. What is it about the cold that drives most people crazy, their eyes and nostrils flaring in tandem as though to suck one last breath and sight before the mere mention of cold weather can bring about its reality?
Being from Michigan, I am used to the cold. Well... perhaps, thrive on it is a better word-choice. While I was younger, I lived in Jakarta, Indonesia - a hot place, in the tropics, where it rarely got below 72 degrees. While that may be someone's idea of paradise, I missed the cold terribly. I missed snow, the way that the trees shed their leaves and iced over, even the crisp, cool air that hits the lungs like a cup of coffee hits the brain.
Now, though - I'm heading to a land that freezes over in September, where the very sea - that salty monster of old - freezes in defiant submission to the North Winds. That crisp, cool air that I love so much - will I still love it when it is around not just for my birth month, but for six months of the year?
These thoughts were running through my head in the airport before flying, and while I was snoozing in Anchorage. Imagine my surprise when, in the Anchorage airport, I was asked politely to move by some airport workers who were going to irradiate the area.
I had been sleeping on a bench, as it was three-AM locally, and my plane didn't leave until six. I'd heard the workers moving the benches around, but was trying to dismiss it and get back to sleep as best I could - bright lights and plane landings don't make for the best sleep environment. Apparently, there was a great need to x-ray the floor near where I was sleeping, and so I followed the suggestion that I leave the immediate vicinity, believing that an interrupted nap was worth not increasing my lifetime radiation exposure. I still don't know exactly what they were x-raying for - nor, even, if there were people on the floor below (though I doubt it) - but perhaps you'll have an idea, and share it in the comments? (In the modified words of Cookie Monster: "YOU HAVE COMMENT, SO SHARE IT, MAYBE?")
More updates, including pictures of Nome and thoughts on moving into a shared living space, coming up in the next few weeks!
More updates, including pictures of Nome and thoughts on moving into a shared living space, coming up in the next few weeks!
From my understanding (recently confirmed by a brief Google search), x-raying concrete flooring, walls, dams, etc. gives engineers and other specialists an understanding of what's going on under the surface. Similar to sonar, the pictures are pretty much instant, but x-rays give a lot more detail. They map out where the rebar is located, where any built-in cables are, whether there are structural abnormalities that need to be corrected or kept tabs on, and lots of other helpful stuff. Since the average lifespan of concrete is only about 100 years, even with excellent maintenance, knowing these things can help it last longer than it would otherwise since spot repairs can easily be made.
ReplyDeleteThat's a great suggestion! I suppose that I had thought that information would be in blueprints, but it wouldn't be as accurate, especially if they've taken to computerizing their data. I wonder if changes will soon be made to the Anchorage airport, then... time will tell!
DeleteI think you missed your opportunity to become an airport- themed superhero. Good call.
ReplyDeleteHmm... I'll pass on the power of making a really expensive bad cup of coffee, or the power to make people run for the wrong gate. I think remaining a geeky pastor will be enough challenge for the forseeable future. :)
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