Airport Times

Something I read about an airport the other day reminded me of some of the airport experiences I have had, or rather, some of the more unusual things I observed there. It's a good thing this isn't a TV because after seeing that lien you would probably turn me off...lighten up a little and I'll make this short. perhaps you can tell me an unusual airport story too.
I remember once in the early 90's a Moscow Airport, that when the passengers changed planes they were walked, not to a shuttle bus, but to the actual airport tarmac where we waited...standing up...about 20 minutes for the bald tire aircraft to stagger to a spot on the tarmac to where we then were told to walk. I didn't have jet lag after that flight. I had foot lag from the constant walking on an airport tarmac. of course that airport was the same one in which a Russian soldier (they had armed soldiers in the Moscow Airport at the time) motioned to me an in broken English said, "You want sell pants".
Since I was in an open airport at the time I decided not to get naked and sell the poor fellow my fashionable pants...Not that I don't have an absolutely beautiful butt for the other airport passengers to see. I just declined any impulse to excite everybody there that day and in the process probably prevented an international embarrassment for for country.
Really, it was nothing to what happened when I got to Kiev on the next flight. there, I and the other Americans were practically held ransom while a small time airport supervisor decided to fleece us all by demanding we pay $50 for a visa that we already had with us, and that we had paid for prior to the trip. We were being held ransom when some of the Americans chattered on about "their rights" and so forth. I informed them that we had no rights when being kidnapped and ransomed in the soviet Union, tourists or not, and that it was worth $50 to me to get out of that abysmal airport. I told them I was going to give little Stalin his $50 and grab a cab into Kiev. Like pack of lambs they all decided to follow me and escape Stalin...uh...minus $50 each.
Then there was the time I was in that Singapore airport. It is gorgeous, beautiful on the outside, but like so many drab Singaporean people, has little flash or appeal once you see it. That airport is the kind that has the shops that sell those awful crescent shaped foam pillows that are supposed to replace the dirty airline pillow we all want when we board a long flight. Anyway, in that airport I saw an incident which was the microcosm of the national character of the people of Singapore.
A young male passenger from a flight entering into Singapore was walking in the airport. He apparently understood no spoken or written English because many signs in the airport say NO SMOKING (In Singapore the national pastime ss trying to come up with even more NO this or that. They are quite a negative and over disciplined crowd) and because one of those pretty Singapore airport ladies (They scurry about and do every imaginable thing to please the tourists) frantically yelled "No smoking" to him. he ignored her until she bolted( with another airport beauty coming to her assistance) toward that guy at break net speed.
Seeing that charging lion he dumped the cigarette in a trash can and ran from the lion and her assistant. No doubt, had he have been apprehended he would have been flogged, shot, and the boiled in order. They seem, to do that a lot in Singapore.
The most eerie sight I saw was when in the jakarta airport in 1998. That one is a beautiful facility, but what was odd then was I had just arrived one month after the bloody anti Chinese riots in the country, a time when no sane (As you already know, I am not sane) foreigner would travel to Jakarta. I practically had the entire airport concourse to myself that time. Unfortunately, the various con artists who offer tourists everything from "pretty girl" to rides into Jakarta to cheap accommodations, swarmed all over me as I exited the airport.
I thought perhaps I had started the second 98 riot. Oh then there was Detroit airport I settled into at 1 am. I was stuck there and prepared fro the 7 hour layover , but little did I know it was practically closed. When I deplaned (I love that word) I entered into an airport where NOTHING was open, there were no maintenance people on duty, no security people, no shops or food outlets opening, no escalators or sky trains working....nothing but me and a few other aimless souls, some of whom were sleeping on several padded chairs.
I was tired, bored and hunger, but the first outlet to open, a McDonald's (When I die, either in heaven or hell, I am certain the first thing I will see is a McDonald's) didn't until 6 a.m. By 6:30 a.m. it seemed half of Detroit was suddenly in the airport, as if a switch had been turned on and it filled.
Last September when we put Jane on a plane to Toronto to escape the hurricane mess here at home, I saw managing parade of sadness and shock at the Baton Rouge Airport. There were thousands of refugees from New Orleans , those who had been rescued from rooftops and attics in their flooded homes. They were all being herded by little men with megaphones to spots in the airport with signs like "Houston", Atlanta", "Salt Lake City" the destinations for those groups of about 150 each. The little men were in effect telling them where they were going to be sent, and in some cases the refugees were not overjoyed by it. I saw a young girl in her pajamas holding a dirt stuffed animal,. probably the only thing she took from her demolished home, doctors and nurses in medical wear, the more fortunate who had grabbed whatever they could carry in small plastic grocery bags when being rescued by the boats or helicopters that treaded through the flood waters to save them.
Each person had a face and wore clothes that told a thousand stories, and the stories were always tragic ones. I saw tears, fears and heard jeers from some of the refuges. It was the most surreal sight of my life, human tragedy on display in a tiny Louisiana airport. I felt so lucky that Jane wasn't in such a group that instead she was going to safety with relatives. I do think if I had stayed in that airport that day, and just observed, i could have written the human story of the hurricane.
Ok..I am rambling, You can come up for air now.
From the "Oh, no! Is my daddy in there" department come the news that Christopher Killion, 31, of Tulsa, Oklahoma has a rather small show that has gotten him into a pickle. He was arrested the other day at a Tulsa strip joint after police say his 4 year old toddler son wandered from an unlocked car into the club and saw sights not seen on the Cartoon channel or at Sesame Street. Christopher was arrested on a complaint of "encouraging a minor child to be in the need of supervision", whatever that means (They should have filed "stupidity" charges against Christopher instead).
He posted a $500 bond and was released (probably heading to another strip club). Christopher has an unusual parenting style. I think we might call it the "monster school of supervision. That's because Christopher told his little boy to stay in the car, and that if he left it "monsters would eat him".... Oh, my. I wander if those strip girls would be my monster and attack me instead. Uh, never mind. Forget my fanatsy....The little boy has been put in the car in the parking lot of the club in near freezing temperatures and with rain pouring down. After the child entered the club (with saucer sized eyes, no doubt), the club manager called the police that a child was looking for his dad among the strippers. Christopher seemed no to even notice his little boy was in the club. Evidently his eyes were focused on other things............