Most of us have flown in a plane. This is because most of us prefer air travel to driving over oceans, and steamer ships seem to be in short supply these days.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time in airports. Most recently I saw a friend off on her way to Switzerland for six weeks to learn French. (People do these things!) Before that, I was on six flights in three weeks, four of them over five hours in length. That’s a lot of hours not only in airplanes, but in airports. All those long hours of purposeful, anxiety-fraught sitting that manage to be more exhausting than running a half-marathon have got to be filled with something. I usually choose a steely yet non-threatening expression on my face (ideal message: not a security threat, but not a potential new friend either), the entire Weakerthans discography on my iPod (including John K. Samson’s 1993 Propagandhi-era solo EP “Slips and Tangles,” complete with the bitterly brilliant track “Airport Lounge”) and a new Shitty-Irish-Chick-Lit novel. It passes the time.

Lots to look at. (Photo by myself)

Sometimes I send annoyed emails to friends, reporting the (non-)action. For example, from last month: “So here I am in yet another airport lounge, listening to a blaring television that’s on a loop of death off to the right. Every ten minutes or so a commercial comes on for something that must be sad and child-related (I can’t see the screen) – a woman’s voice plaintively singing “Head and shoulders, knees and toes…” over a subtly swelling string section. Jealous?”

But, you know – those lost hours add up. And sometimes you have one of those moments when you think, “these minutes are as much a part of my life as any other minutes.” Two choices remain here: panic at the impossibility of living a spontaneous, carefree, world-trotting life when so much of that life tends to be spent sitting in relentlessly uncomfortable seats, or…eavesdrop. (Which may also induce panic. But really, if you eavesdrop on a plot to hijack a plane in an airport, rather than fear the ineffectual plotters you should probably move away in all haste so you don’t get knocked over as the plotters get bodily taken down by lumbering security officials.)

Traveling can be tiresome. (Photo by myself)

During one of my recent stretches of time spent in an airport lounge, I turned the tables and eavesdropped on some security officials. Very satisfying. One female official was standing behind a desk, desperately trying to look busy, as another, older male guard regaled her with his best war stories:

“Tell ya, had two tire totals in one day. Both in the same day! Like, two tires were totaled in one day. So I got myself a four-set of 10 ply plymouths, never had a tire problem again. Can you believe that!?”

Then, he unveiled his real corker:

“Got a couple kayaks, down at Jericho…oh yeah, I go there every week. I’m a member. One for someone your size. Well, originally for my daughter. One bigger one. For someone like me. Think fate’s telling us something? Haha…yeah, I’m an atheist too.”

Next time you’re in an airport, don’t close yourself in a bubble of pointless travel-induced-tension. Eavesdrop instead! You’ll be amazed at the intelligence, kindness, and sheer idiocy of the human race. You may also get a few funny looks. Please don’t sue me if you get taken down by security for staring at people and writing down everything they say.