(new here? read this first.)
Daniel’s take.
What do you do with an incredibly long layover in Terminal 2 of Charles de Gaulle airport? We’re talking really long – you change contacts, brush your teeth, shave, receive care packages, and so on. It’s happened to many. This is a compilation of their experiences. A CDG Survival Kit.
Find an outlet (provided you have adapters). The outlet provides power. It will allow you to charge your iPhone, iPad and walkie-talkies. You can also plug in a projector, blender or one of those massage chairs. You get the picture.
Find an empty seat with room to stretch. And close to the outlet. You’ll need space for your bags and to really lounge. If the layover is long, change into your pajamas, carve out your space, and make yourself at home. You’ll want to keep circulation going. Take out your mat; connect your laptop to the projector and watch yoga lessons. Do a morning and evening Bikram session. You might even make money. Importantly, you’ll feel better about yourself.
Obtain a shopping cart. You’ll need it for shuttling things from point A to point B. It will also keep raiders away at night. Place it in front of your tent. Do your grocery shopping as the masses are boarding the flight you didn’t make. Offer to transport older people from gate to gate. There are valuable Euros to be earned.
Befriend someone at the espresso stand. They’ll get to know you and learn to make your cappuccino exactly as you wish. They can also keep an eye on your things when you pop to the bathroom. Need to a get a message to the outside world? They’ll do it. If you’re feeling especially entrepreneurial, create a flyer advertising your shuttle service for people that don’t move too well. They can put it on the café corkboard.
Give blood. You just should.
Learn how to DJ. Offer your services at the various airport restaurants, cafes and fast food places. Come up with a catchy name, like DJ Red Eye or MC 747. Book yourself a few times a week. Le TGI Fridays is the place to be.
Become an airport tour guide. Lead a variety of visitor experiences – the 15-minute tour, the 60-minute tour, the history of France tour. You know what we’re talking about. If you’re going to be stuck, at least know your surroundings.
Be nice to the airport dogs. You need them. They provide needed companionship. They fetch. And if they don’t like you, you’re screwed.
Follow these tips and time will fly. You’ll fly. Just ask the dozens of people stranded before you were.
Terminal 2 - Charles de Gaulle Airport
Now for Casey’s Turn.
Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.
I sometimes forget that airports are hallowed places.
Sure they’re filled with overpriced food, fanny packs, tacky souvenirs and constant PA announcements. Not to mention the grumpy people that just want to get home already.
Flying used to be a luxury, a privilege few could afford.
Now it is treated as a more expensive city bus, where most of its passengers can’t be bothered to put on clothing without a stretchy waistband or shoes that that don’t make a slap slap sound when they walk.
But every person going through the airport has some sort of story.
And it’s generally on the other side of security that their story unfolds.
I could stand at the arrivals gate of any airport for hours.
Yesterday it was two teenage girls, one came running from the other side of the airport squealing while the one who had just deplaned dropped all of her belongings, opened her arms and braced herself for impact. They didn’t stop hugging until they had done three full rotations in the tightest, twirliest hug known to anyone.
One of the few times an overprotective mother will let go of her child is at an airport, that is when grandma and grandpa are on the other side. You could line the entire way to grandma and grandpa with ponies, ice cream and carnival rides but that kid will stay locked on their grandparents until they are in their arms.
It is at airports where soldiers are reunited with their loved ones after months or even years apart. It is at airports where boys come back to their moms as men after college or church missions.
It is also at airports where one can take an enormous tangible step towards a new life.
Moving across the country perhaps.
I remember that flight well.
The second the wheels left the ground in Salt Lake, Utah was no longer my home. Nothing I owned was still there, it had all been driven across the country to a tiny apartment in Indianapolis.
I may or may not have spent the whole flight in tears (I did) but when I got off the plane and through the airport my Cody was there waiting for us. It was at baggage claim four where my new life began, and Indiana became my home.
