I remember flying years ago and feeling the unspoken “travelers code.” People helping people, striking up conversations, a sense of camaraderie with everyone heading somewhere for something. Together but separate.
Today I am unsure if my own self has changed or if everyone else has. You can still find helpers and the occasional conversationalist. But it really is every man for themselves. Nonetheless, I find that taking a step back (or slide back into my chair) at the airport can help to widen my view. Now that I am a writer, things appear a little differently. Possibly. Now I see…
The yo-yo master and son, sending the ball on string flying through the air and back again. Over and over. To whittle away at the time.
The children racing here and there, to and fro. Giggling, laughing, stopping in their tracks to stare wide-eyed at the giant planes.
The parents silently cheering them on please go. go. run off some energy. While peeking at each of the travelers around them to gauge who will be a kid friendly ally on board.
The young pregnant woman flying alone, wringing her hands as she sits.
The family flying together for mom’s 60th birthday. Excited, loud, boisterous, laughing, joking. Fun.
The husband giving up his seat to a stranger so that she may rest her body.
Despite the hustle and bustle and frantic pace. Despite the every man for himself idea. There is still a traveler’s code at the airport. You just have to look for it.
Live, Love, Teach 
I’m glad you found it. Thank Gd it still exists.
I haven’t traveled in a while. I wonder if I would find it?
Observations tell many a story, if we are willing to watch.
Isn’t it great that we “see” things differently now that we are writers? I loved that comment 🙂
I saw the airport differently than before also on my recent flight. One of my observations was that almost nobody was reading a book. I remember sitting in airports before and thinking that it was one of the few places you saw lots of people reading books.
I agree! I DID see an endless supply of cell phones though. 😦